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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29831196">And Again and Again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gertie_flirty/pseuds/gertie_flirty'>gertie_flirty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Last Words of a Shooting Star [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ranma 1/2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Grief</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:07:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,964</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29831196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gertie_flirty/pseuds/gertie_flirty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At eighteen years old, Akane suffers a devastating loss. As she approaches thirty, she meets a mysterious man who changes everything.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Saotome Ranma/Tendou Akane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Last Words of a Shooting Star [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a mirror/reverse fic of my other story, Try Again, Try Again. You don't need to have read that one in order to read this one, but you can if you wish. As it is generally a similar scenario, a lot of the material is the same, or reused, but I hope there's enough originality to it for it to be a worthwhile read. Please enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>At eighteen, everyone thinks they’re invincible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was no exception. Actually, he did consider himself the exception. He actually was invincible. Nothing, no one, ever, could stop him for long. He would be right back on his feet, ready to fight, ready to win. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then one day, everything changed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A spring breeze blew through the skirt of Akane’s uniform dress as she walked to school. He was up on the fence beside her, like he always was. It was still chilly outside, white clouds covering the sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akane—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up at her name. He grinned, one half of his mouth pulled higher than the other. She wondered if he needed to look at her math notes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crouched down, ready to say something else as she waited expectantly. And then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell, off the fence, back, down into the canal, making a splash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She yelled his name, jumped over the fence herself. She couldn’t swim, but the water wasn’t deep. She was able to wade out to where he had landed, although he was a girl now, and an unconscious one at that. She pulled him to shore, made sure he was still breathing. He was. With a few sputtering coughs, he opened his eyes. Looked up at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akane? Why are you all wet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding me?!” She felt like crying. He had just passed out for no reason. Fell without catching himself. She tried to explain, but he just shrugged off her concerns. They stopped at the clinic for hot water and towels, and were late for school. She kept watching him, out of the corner of her eye all day. Had he been cursed? One of the other girls slip him something weird? Or just a random dizzy spell?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it kept happening. Once every few days, then every day, then multiple times a day. He would be walking, or practicing, or just sitting in her room reading manga, and then, suddenly, on the ground. And every time she felt the same rush of panic, and every time, he would brush it off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it happened in the middle of class, where everyone saw. She carried him to the school nurse, who suggested he needed a doctor. He resisted. Refused. And she saw that, for once, he was scared. So she stopped him on the way home. He no longer walked on the fence, so she just stood right in front of him. Tears in her eyes that wouldn't fall. Begged him to go to the doctor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the next day, he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was bad news. Very bad news. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he got sicker and sicker. She devoted herself to him, even when he tried to push her away. Even when he screamed and called her names. He was scared, and that scared her. He had always been able to fight his way out of every situation, but this one? This one he couldn’t stop. Didn’t matter how strong he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was getting weaker everyday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other girls, the ones she considered rivals, they tried to help too. But it always ended with them arguing with each other more than they provided any help and his mother eventually forbid them from coming into the house ever again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it was just Akane, providing attention, and care. His protests faded away. His mother was there, too, distraught. Miserable. Akane tried to help her, too. His father barely spoke anymore, too full of regrets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They moved a bed into his room, so he didn’t have to sleep on a futon while he was sick. He was too weak to argue, but he tried anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One night, before the end, she brought him tea. He threw it on the ground. Started openly crying. Her heart broke. She sat on the bed next to him, and he clung to her, his arms around her waist, his head buried in her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared, Akane, I’m scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She held him. Cried with him. She wished she could fight whatever was doing this to him. Slam her fists into its face over and over again. But it wasn’t possible. She couldn’t fight this fight. So she held him. Whispered in his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the next day, the last day, she still was holding him. Felt him shudder and breathe his last breath, and his body, that was once so strong and firm, now weak and fragile and thin, go still. She screamed. She cried. Yelled his name, over and over, and over and over. They tried to pull her off of him. She wouldn’t let go. His mother held him from the other side, sobbing into his back. And they both held him, his body, for a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until her oldest sister placed one calm hand on her back. And Akane finally loosened her grip. Moved away. Fell to the floor where her father hugged her. Tried to comfort her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lost her voice from screaming. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, there was his wake. A funeral. So many people there, but her eyes only stared back at them, empty, even when they offered their sympathies. A lot of people there who had claimed to hate him. Now crying their eyes out, as if they had ever cared about him in the first place. The other girls, crying too, denied their prize. Akane felt nothing but contempt for the ones like that. For nearly everyone there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except for one. His biggest rival. His best friend. A sad boy with a bandana who was her friend too. He was the only one who she genuinely believed missed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when she went back to school, her friends were there, but they didn’t know what to say. They were just kids. How could they handle something like this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After they interred his ashes, on the forty-ninth day, his parents said they were moving out. Akane felt numb. She had liked his mother. Grown close with her. But it was hard to have them around without him there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let her hair grow. He had been the one to like it short, after all. And she just never cared about cutting it, or even brushing it, most days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the world moved on without her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her sisters moved out. First her oldest sister, marrying the doctor like everyone expected. Then her other sister, to university, then becoming a rich and successful businesswoman. Following their destinies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Akane decided to follow hers too. Threw herself into martial arts. Practiced, practiced, practiced. Started teaching classes herself. Mostly kids, or women. She had no interest in inviting men into her life, in any way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And her friend invited her to his wedding, after several years. She made an effort. Dressed up. Curled her hair, although it was too lengthy to hold a curl for long. Drank. Danced. Wished her old friend and his new wife a hearty congratulations. Kept it together, until she went back to her hotel room, alone, and cried herself to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have been there. He would have danced at the wedding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father was the next to pass away. A heart attack. She was grateful he had been able to see her oldest sister give birth three times, get to know his grandchildren, at least a little. Because Akane was never going to be able to give him that. And she missed him. Her father’s death hurt so very much, but loss was her expectation now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she was all alone, in her house. Her childhood home. In the dojo. And it was so very, very, quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then one day, everything changed again. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Akane opened the gates, then grabbed her broom and started to sweep the debris out into the street. She spent most of her days cleaning, practicing, or teaching. The routine was the only thing that seemed to keep her going, most of the time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was another early morning, and she had on a hooded sweatshirt and jeans. It was starting to get cold outside, but she still had her long hair clipped up in the back, out of the way. Her sweatshirt had several stains on it, but it was warm, and comfortable, although a little big. She let out a breath, and she could see tiny wisps of white in the air. She moved back inside the gates, swept up another pile of debris, moved towards the street again, her back to it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned, looked up at the unfamiliar voice. A tall, tan, short haired man, a large rucksack on his back, a young black labrador puppy in his arms. He was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, and he flashed a charming grin full of white teeth at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” she asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this the Tendo dojo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at the sign next to the gates that read, in large characters, TENDO DOJO.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned around and started sweeping again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked back up, and the man’s charming smile had changed into a frown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was hoping I could, uh—take classes here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane raised her eyebrows. “I’m not accepting new students.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then maybe I could, uh, teach?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You went from wanting to take classes to wanting to teach?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” he said, smiling. “Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She furrowed her eyebrows in frustration. “Do you even know martial arts?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” he said. “Big time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m—” She paused, completely bewildered by this situation. “I don’t need any other instructors.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said. “Then I challenge you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For the sign.” He nodded his head at it, the puppy in his arms starting to squirm a bit. “We fight, I win, I get your sign.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just assume that you would win?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” he said again, still smiling. The puppy stretched up and started licking his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane clutched the handle of the broom tightly. Who the hell was this guy? What did he actually want? Not the sign, or he would have started with that. She had to accept his challenge. She was duty bound. But what if she lost?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She bit her lip. Shook her head. She wouldn’t lose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” she said. “Let’s fight.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She led him to the dojo. He left his rucksack outside and clipped it to a long lead that his dog was attached to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll be all right out here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.” He shrugged. “Shouldn’t take long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She frowned. This guy!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once in the middle of the dojo floor, she became extra suspicious. “What’s your name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grinned. Held out his hand. “Densuke Sugishima.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cautiously, she shook it. “Akane Tendo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The skin of his hand was absurdly rough and callous, but his grip was gentle. She pulled away and looked him in the eyes, where he was still grinning. His sharp jaw and trendy haircut made him seem even more arrogant and she felt her temper rise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right,” she said, taking a ready stance. “Let’s begin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood there, smiling, arms crossed, not moving. This infuriated her even more. She wanted to beat his face in. She rushed forward, threw a punch. He just barely dodged it, his nose missing her fist by less than a centimeter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa,” he said. “You’re actually pretty fast.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I am,” she added, immediately throwing her leg into a high kick. “This is what I</span>
  <em>
    <span> do.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kick hit him pretty solidly in the shoulder. It threw him off balance, but didn’t seem to truly hurt. He rebounded, the smile still on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is great,” he said, jumping up in the air as she kicked again. “You’re really great, you know that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” She was flustered, confused, that he was complimenting her in the middle of a challenge fight. She didn’t let the distraction faze her too much as she lowered herself into a grapple, although he quickly spun away. He was fast, agile, and strong. It was becoming more and more difficult to land a hit on him as he adapted to her style, and he spent a lot of time in the air. She had underestimated him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Worse yet, he wasn’t really fighting back. It was all dodges or blocks, nothing offensive from his side. Until she let her anger get the best of her. Lowered her head. Drove it into his stomach. He absorbed the impact, but then grabbed her around the torso. Lifted her up, over. Flipped her onto her back and pinned her down, his knees on her shoulders. She struggled. Wiggled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No use. He was too strong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” he said, grinning down at her. “Looks like I win.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” she shouted. “NO!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was humiliating. She had faced plenty of challenges, just like this, over the years. Won them all. Against bigger men. Stronger men. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But no. They couldn’t be stronger than this guy, could they? Not if they had lost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke stood. Patted his clothes down. Reached out a hand in offering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane remained on her back on the floor, looking despondent. She had disgraced her father’s memory. The stupid sign, that had been in their family for four generations, gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that!” She slapped his hand away. Leapt to her feet. “Just take the sign and go!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hated crying. But now, in front of this strange man, who had made a total fool out of her, she couldn’t stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen,” he said, his voice small. Ashamed. “I don’t really want the sign.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You fought for it,” she said. “You won.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s make a deal, then,” he said. “You can keep your sign. But you have to let me teach classes here. And maybe stay, if you have the room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Is this what he wanted? The whole time? A place to sleep? There were patched holes in his pants. Ah. Oh no. She should have noticed sooner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just kinda tired of wandering around. And my dog needs consistency.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked up through her hands. He was smiling. But he seemed genuine. And the dog was cute. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” she said softly. “But don’t get any wrong ideas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wrong ideas?” he asked. “About what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About me,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed. “No problem.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She frowned. “Why not? Isn’t that why you fought your way in here? Want to stay here? To make some weird kind of move on me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he said, but he was still smiling. “Absolutely not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you gay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked. Laughed again. “You sure have a high opinion of yourself, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—” She blushed. An angry blush. “I’ve just had other guys try to do that, that’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, they weren’t like me,” he said, heading out of the dojo. “No one is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For some reason, she believed him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Fundamentals</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She showed Densuke to the guest room. It had been empty ever since Nodoka and Genma left, over ten years ago. His dog followed them happily upstairs, his tiny tail wagging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke seemed to be comfortable instantly. Threw his bag in a corner. Sat in the middle of the floor and the dog hopped in his lap to be petted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane sighed. What was she thinking, letting a strange man, obviously stronger than her, move into her house for an unknown length of time?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it had been so quiet. So quiet for so long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"There's a futon and blankets in the closet," she said, standing in the doorway. "And you can help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen. There's not a lot, though. I have to admit I'm not much of a cook."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's fine," said Densuke. "I'm a great cook."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Glad to hear, I'm tired of takeout." She surprised herself when she smiled. "Well, the bath is downstairs. Laundry too. I'll leave you to it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave her a wave as she shut the door. It wasn't even lunchtime yet and her whole life had changed. She didn't even have any classes until three o'clock. All she could think to do is her routine. Clean. Practice. Maybe read some. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she tried. But there was another person in her house. And a dog! They were fairly quiet, but she could still hear them moving. Breathing. An occasional bark. Densuke left at one point, and she felt relieved, until she realized his dog was still there, which meant he was coming back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when he came back, his arms were loaded down with shopping bags full of groceries. She followed him into the kitchen, feeling a little guilty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I should pay you for those—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's fine," he said, shrugging. "We both gotta eat."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled out a bag of dog treats and opened them, dangling one in front of his dog.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And you too, P-chan."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane froze. The color drained from her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Did you—did you say P-chan?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah," Densuke replied, crouched down and scratching the dog behind its ears. "P for puppy."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh," Akane said. "Right."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course. That's all. A puppy. Cute, really. She let out a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sandwiches all right for lunch? And curry for dinner?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't have to do all that—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I just said we both gotta eat." He grinned at her, again. "So how about it?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, she nodded. "Okay."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a pretty good sandwich. After, Densuke even cleaned up, P-chan close at his heels. He asked to watch her class, which was comprised of a bunch of nine year olds, and she agreed. Part of her worried briefly that maybe that was his motivation, the kids, but he kept his eyes on her the entire time. It should have creeped her out, but for some reason, it didn't. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're a great teacher," he told her after class, helping her put the mats away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thanks," Akane replied. Maybe this guy really did just appreciate her martial arts skill. "What kind of teacher are you?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's a good question," he said. "I've never taught a class before."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Then why did you want to teach? And why here?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You know the Tendo dojo is famous, right?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well—" She hesitated. Several of her students had gone on to win championships. But she herself hadn't entered any in years. "Still, you first said you wanted to take classes."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah, my plan was just to show off and impress you so much you promoted me from student to teacher right away."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's—" Akane suppressed a smile. "That's some plan."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, but then you turned me down immediately." He let out a deep breath before smiling again. "I guess it all worked out."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But you really want to teach? Martial arts?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged one shoulder. "It's what I was always meant to do."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Me too," she replied without thinking. "But I—I mean, I grew up in a dojo. What about you?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well," he said as he packed away the last mat and shut the door to the storage closet. "I didn't grow up in a dojo. But my parents were martial artists."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Were?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knitted his brow. "They died when I was little."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry." She really was. She knew what it was like, to be an orphan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And then I lived with my grandfather. A martial artist, too. But then he died, right before I—" He paused. Tilted his head to the side. Seemed confused. "Right before I went to college?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You went to college?" she asked, confused at his confusion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah," he replied, his surprise growing. "In America?!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why are you saying it like a question?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I just—" He shook his head. Cleared his throat. "Never thought I would be the type to go to college. And major in business?!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last part he yelled, looking frustrated and taken aback. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why are you yelling?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head again. "I've just been—traveling, for a while. Have to get used to having normal human conversations."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I see," Akane said. So he was a weird guy. But she had already agreed to having him stay. Having him teach. And he may be weird, but he did seem good natured.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Don't worry." Densuke grinned. Shoved his hands in his pockets. "Tomorrow, I'm going to recruit a bunch of students for this place. Men. Grown men."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pursed her lips. Gay for sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"All right, if you say so."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He did manage to find three new students, college aged men with varying levels of enthusiasm he convinced to come to a Friday night class. Akane watched, P-chan in her lap. Her curiosity was certainly piqued. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three men were all complete beginners, which seemed to disappoint and frustrate Densuke. After several minutes of his irritation growing, he looked over at Akane, who attempted to give him a comforting smile. He looked back at the sign on the dojo wall, the calligraphy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I've been going about this all wrong," he sighed. Turned to face his students. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Iroha</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You guys know what that means?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the men started repeating the poem. <em>“いろはにほへと—”</em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," said Densuke patiently. "Fundamentals. We begin at the beginning. Every house needs a foundation."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the lesson went well. Akane could tell Densuke was bored, but he walked the men through extremely basic moves and stances without letting any more anger show. And at the end, the students did seem satisfied with what they had learned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So how did I do?" Densuke asked, helping Akane to her feet after the others left. P-chan hopped down and pranced in a circle around them, sniffing at their toes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"A little rough, at first," said Akane. "But I think you have potential."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Really?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He seemed so earnestly pleased with her mild praise she was surprised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes. And also, I know it can be frustrating to have students at a skill level far below yours, but it's like you told them," said Akane.  "Every house needs a foundation."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Perception</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"So what do you want for dinner tonight, Tendo-san?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One week since Densuke had moved in. One week of classes, although he hadn't attracted that many students yet. One week of sparring together. She hadn't had any kind of real opponent in ages, and he was good. And he could take a hit. She didn't have to hold back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And one week of having three home cooked meals a day. It had been a really long time since that happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't have to cook tonight," Akane said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But I don't want takeout—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We're not getting any," Akane said, laughing softly. "My sister is coming over this afternoon and staying for dinner. She always cooks."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows as he sat across from her at the living room table. "I feel bad, having a guest cook, though."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Technically, you're a guest too," Akane replied, picking up a muffin from the tray he had placed down. "But she's bringing her three kids. You don't want to cook for all of them. They're very picky."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, I could," Densuke said, taking a bite of his own muffin. "I don't mind."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Kasumi feels unhelpful if she can't cook for me, every once in a while."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The mother hen type, huh?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"For sure." Akane smiled. "But our mother passed when we were little. She just fell right into the role."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Densuke said. "I know what it's like, to lose a parent."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Both parents," said Akane. "Although my dad only died a year ago."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke looked full of grief. "I'm sorry, again."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane shook her head. "Loss is part of life, isn't it?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It shouldn't be."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had never heard his voice so firm before. She looked up from her muffin, but he wasn't facing her. Just staring at the wall, an unrecognizable expression on his face. Akane knew she wasn't the only one who felt loss. That others felt it as keenly and sharply and deeply as she did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But still, when facing it, someone else's grief could make you feel useless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn't say anything. P-chan nudged his snout against her, begging for a piece of muffin. In a moment of weakness, she gave him some.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke turned back to her. Gave her a grin. "You really shouldn't give him people food."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I can't help it," said Akane. "He's so cute."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke laughed. Picked the dog up in his arms and rubbed his belly. "Yeah. I guess he is."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Auntie Akane!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenshi, Kasumi's youngest, jumped up into Akane's arms as he ran through the front door. She laughed and turned him upside down, his arms dangling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're getting so big!" she exclaimed. "Soon you'll be too tall for me to do this!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No way! I'll stop growing!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed again and tossed him up in the air, caught him, and set him right side up on his feet. "Let's hope not."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Auntie Akane," said Toya, Kasumi's middle child, as he took off his shoes in the entryway. He handed her a book.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Howl's Moving Castle.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Akane took it from him and smiled. "Finished already?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded. "Thank you for lending it to me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Of course, Toya-chan. You know where the rest are, if you would like to borrow another one."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded and scurried away towards her father's room, which she had made into a makeshift library. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Auntie Akane!" Mirai, Kasumi's eldest, bouncing on her toes. Big round glasses, curly hair in two short, thick pigtails. "We can spar tonight, right?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"If your mother says it's okay."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's fine with me," said Kasumi, sliding the door shut behind her. "She has had so much energy this week."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yay!" Mirai threw her hands up in the air and jumped, somersaulting in the air. She was nine years old and desperately wanted to be a martial artist like her father, aunt, and grandfather. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mirai! Not in the house, please!" Kasumi cried after her daughter as she ran off with Kenshi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane and Kasumi smiled at each other before hugging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Long time no see."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Only a week!" Akane laughed. "But I do have news."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked into the living room where Kenshi and Mirai were playing tug of war with P-chan and one of his rope toys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"AUNTIE AKANE YOU GOT A DOG?!" Kenshi shrieked at the top of his tiny lungs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Is this your news?" asked Kasumi, laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, not exactly—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yo."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke had emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands with a towel. He threw it over one shoulder and held his hand out to Kasumi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hi, I'm Densuke."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kasumi shook his offered hand, but kept her bewildered eyes on her sister. "Akane-chan, you have a boyfriend?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ooh," said Mirai. "A boyfriend, Auntie Akane?!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What?! No! No way! Absolutely, positively not! Not ever!" Akane, red-faced, looked at the others, trying to catch her breath. Mirai and Kenshi looked scared. Densuke looked amused. Kasumi looked concerned. Akane turned her head. "He's just a new instructor. Staying here for a while."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh!" Kasumi's expression brightened. "Expanding the school? How nice!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thanks," said Densuke, smiling and sitting at the table. "I'm going to do my best."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So is it your dog?!" asked Kenshi excitedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sure is," Densuke said, laughing. Reached over, scratched the dog's back. "His name is P-chan."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kasumi's eyes went wide. She turned to Akane in shock, her face pale.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane shook her head. "Just a weird coincidence. P for puppy."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh," said Kasumi, exhaling. "Oh, of course."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I heard you're a good cook," said Densuke. "Tendo-san wouldn't let me make dinner tonight."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Tendo-san?" asked Kasumi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane laughed nervously. "It's all right, Densuke—-kun. You can call me Akane, if you would like."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke appeared to be holding back a smirk. "Very well. Akane wouldn't let me make dinner tonight."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm glad," said Kasumi. "I love to cook."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, can I at least be your sous chef?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What's that?" asked Mirai.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's a fancy French word for assistant cook."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why not just say that then?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke shrugged. "Guess I spent too much time in America."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why would you speak French in America?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's a really good question," replied Densuke. "They're crazy over there."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mirai laughed. Akane was amazed at how easily Densuke made conversation with her and the rest of her family as the day wore on. She even watched him as he cooked with Kasumi, and it was like he had known her for years. Made her laugh. Impressed her with his knife skills. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart was beating quickly, for some reason. So she took Mirai out to the dojo to work off some energy. The girl was good. A quick learner. But short tempered. Impatient. Just like Akane had been at that age. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe still was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They finished together, yelling with one final strike. Mirai grinned up at Akane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what do you think? Did I get better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you did, Mirai-chan!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will I be as good as you one day?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, definitely!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll say,” said Densuke, appearing in the doorway of the dojo. “The two of you are just alike.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane’s smile faded as she raised one eyebrow. “Is that so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” he said, nodding and walking over to them in the middle of the room. “Can I tell you how?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure!” said Mirai at the same time Akane said “No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke laughed. “You both keep your opening stance too wide. Just a tiny bit. But it’s gonna cut down on your power when you follow through off of that back foot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Mirai’s eyes widened behind her glasses and she took a ready stance, facing away from them. She brought her feet in just a smidgen, and yelled as she threw one forceful punch. Pleased with her follow through, she turned back around, grinning. “You’re right! Auntie Akane, he’s right!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he?” Akane said, frowning. “Well, I’m glad you could learn something. But I’m sure the real reason Densuke-kun is here is to tell us dinner is ready, isn’t that right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is,” he said, giving her a quick, friendly nod. “Just thought I’d watch you guys for a minute, that’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Mirai-chan, go wash up. We’ll be there in a second, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The little girl ran out of the dojo, her pigtails bouncing. Once she was gone, Akane whirled on Densuke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our stance is too wide?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked. “Well it is!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen—” She stood on her toes, leaning forward, trying to get as close to his face as she could. She jabbed him in the chest with one finger. “I don’t need to be taught by you! You keep your advice to your students and leave me out of it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane turned away quickly, marching out of the dojo. Someone else used to tell her that her stance was too wide. A stupid, arrogant, know it all boy from a century ago. She tried to choke down her tears. Settle her face. She didn’t want the children to see her cry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t want Kasumi to see her cry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she definitely didn’t want Densuke to see her cry.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kasumi left with the kids after dinner, and they all gave Akane multiple hugs. Kenshi also gave P-chan a deep hug and screwed up his face trying not to cry. P-chan even let out a small whine once the boy was out of the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well they bonded, didn’t they?” Densuke asked as he and Akane were left alone in the entryway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose.” Her tone was still chilly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, Akane—is it still okay to call you Akane?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Akane. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was surprised. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t stick my nose in like that. I won’t do it anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s—” She shook her head. Guilt started rolling around in her stomach. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I overreacted. You just—I guess you just hit one of my insecurities on the head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be more careful about it, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s all right,” Akane said, and started walking towards the kitchen. “I’ll clean up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke jogged after her. “No, I can—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, really! You two cooked. And I like cleaning. It calms me down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” he relented. “Then I’m gonna turn in early, I think. Those kids wore P-chan out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane gave him a weak smile. “They have a lot of energy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re good kids,” said Densuke. “I like them. I like your sister, too. She’s really nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said Akane. “She is.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He woke up early the next morning. Pulled on a hoodie. Sweatpants. It wasn’t quite light outside yet. The air was cold. P-chan refused to wake up this early, so he left him behind. He could walk him later. His sneakers pounded on the sidewalk as he jogged through the neighborhood. Past the canal. Past a few restaurants. Watched his breath appear and disappear as he kept his breathing steady. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rounded another corner at the midpoint of his route. There was a figure standing on the corner, the first other person he had seen today. She was bundled up in a parka, wool hat on her head, scarf around her neck. She turned to face him, and looked sad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Densuke-kun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kasumi-san.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused, lowering his hands. Swallowed the lump in his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought that I might run into you here, at this time.” She looked down at her watch. “This exact time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh really?” he asked nervously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Followed the same old route, didn’t you? No reason to jog out this way unless you want to make sure you can go up two hills, isn’t that right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged, not meeting her gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is you, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If anyone could, it would be you,” said Kasumi softly, a small smile on her face. “Only you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Last night, when we were cooking, you seemed so familiar. And the way you moved around the kitchen—did you think I wouldn’t notice?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing to notice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kasumi looked up at the sky, where the sun was beginning to rise. “I don’t know why you can’t tell me the truth. I wish you would. Have you told her?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Told her what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you haven’t, then. That’s cruel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He choked back a sob. “I can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned her eyes back to him. He was staring at her, his eyes wide, watering. “I’m not sure I understand why, but if you say you can’t, then you can’t. I know you would if you could. You came back for her, didn’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know how I figured it out?” asked Kasumi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing to figure out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ignored his denial. “I figured it out because—well. Akane has had a lot of boys interested in her. You know that as well as I do. Suitors. Stalkers. And otherwise. But none of them, not one, has ever, ever, ever, looked at her the way you do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His shoulders sank. He closed his eyes. Kasumi. Always the perceptive one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stepped forward. Took his hands. Held them in her own, which were enveloped by thick wool mittens. “You looked at her that way from the first day you met. And if you can’t tell me how, or why, or what you did—that’s all right. I hope you can tell her, and tell her soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kasumi. So warm. So kind. He squeezed her hands, then pulled his away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ran, back home, to the Tendo dojo, before he had to deny it again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane was awake, just heading out on her own jog. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Densuke-kun?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi.” He steadied himself. Forced a smile on his face. “It’s cold out today. Be careful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, thanks. I was going to take P-chan with me, if that’s all right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great,” Densuke said, looking down at the dog on the end of the leash she held. “That’s great. Have fun!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave her another smile. Ran inside. Up to his room. Looked out of his window to make sure she was gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Started screaming.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Play</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Akane was starting to get used to sharing her house again. For a long time, it had been just her and her dad. And then her, all alone. She hadn’t seen Genma or Nodoka in a long time. Not since her dad’s funeral. She made up her mind to visit them one Wednesday, when Densuke had class in the dojo and she had no other plans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their house wasn’t far. Genma and her father had played shogi regularly, even after Genma and his wife had moved out. They remained best friends. She should have come to visit them before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knocked on the front door of the house, a small one story dwelling set close to the street. Standing on the step, she started rocking back and forth on her heels. Maybe this was a bad idea. What had compelled her to come, so suddenly?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened. Nodoka. Surprised, then smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane. Please come in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi Auntie.” Akane followed her inside. Took off her shoes. Nodoka wrapped her in a big hug that Akane returned with all her strength. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s been so long,” said Nodoka as she pulled back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” whispered Akane. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodoka reached up. Stroked Akane’s face gently. “That’s all right. Come, I’ll make tea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane followed her into the living room, where Genma reclined on the floor, watching television. He looked up as she entered, and pulled himself to a sitting position at the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane-kun. Nice to see you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too, Uncle.” She sat across from him. He looked so much older now. Losing his son had taken away every ounce of energy, every sly thought, every cunning maneuver. And then his best friend, gone, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you? How is the dojo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s going really well,” said Akane. “I’ve even hired a new instructor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” said Genma. “Anyone I know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think so,” said Akane. “He said his name is Densuke Sugishima.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Genma shook his head. “Never heard of him. He knows Anything Goes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well—” Akane hadn’t thought about that before. She was so used to Anything Goes incorporating, well, anything, that pretty much all martial arts styles were Anything Goes to her. “He seems self taught, I know that much. Although he did say his parents were martial artists. He is pretty good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Must be, if you trust him to teach at the dojo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His tone sounded sad and harsh, which confused her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who is teaching at the dojo?” asked Nodoka, returning with the tea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A new instructor,” said Akane. “His name is Densuke.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh really?” Nodoka took a seat, but Akane noticed her tone became chilly as well. She flicked her gaze from one face to the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there an issue?” asked Akane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he your boyfriend?” asked Nodoka.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No! Absolutely not! Why would you even think that?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It would explain why you haven’t seen us in so long,” Genma said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane bit her lip, trying not to cry. “That has nothing to do with this new guy! I barely even know him! And the two of you should know better than anyone that I would never—that I </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> never—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was crying. What a fool. What an asshole, she was. They just missed their son. Worried she was replacing him. But that was impossible. He was one of a kind. No one else in the world like him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane-kun, I—” Genma reached out across the table. Took her hand. “I’m sorry. Really.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We just miss you,” said Nodoka. “Why haven’t you visited?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It hurts,” said Akane “It just hurts so much! Still! After all this time!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodoka moved over. Held her. Close to her chest. Let her cry like a baby. Started crying with her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I know. It hurts me still, too. It always will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m selfish,” sobbed Akane. “I only think about how much it hurts me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t be here if that was true,” whispered Nodoka. “And I hope one day it doesn’t hurt as much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think that day will ever come.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, though, she did stop crying. Managed to drink a cup of tea. Bid them both good-bye at the door. Apologized for crying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Genma hugged her, much to her surprise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were always like a daughter to me, Akane-kun,” he said. “Please come visit more often.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right, I will,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She meant it. She left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the walk home, she wondered why. Why had she suddenly decided to visit them? Tell them about Densuke? Cry her eyes out in Nodoka’s arms? She almost missed feeling numb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had almost been easier, that way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>P-chan was growing quickly. She bought him little sweaters, that Densuke hated. Dressed him in them anyway, even as the dog outgrew them. The weather grew colder. Densuke turned over nearly all of the money he made from teaching to her. She got the central heating in the house fixed. Ordered a bunch of new books. A new cell phone, finally. The days became routine, almost comfortable. Densuke and P-chan were fun companions. P-chan was an affectionate, although slightly dumb dog. Densuke, friendly and eager to help wherever he could. And he never did make a move on her. Never creeped on her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he would listen to her. When she would vent about classes, or tell him about a new book she had read, or about whatever drama was going on with one of her sisters. He listened, taking in every word carefully. Akane started to feel less lonely. And she had felt so, so, lonely for so long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One Saturday, the wind blowing like crazy, she started to close up the shutters on the outside of the house. Densuke helped on the upstairs, P-chan excitedly running up and down between the two of them. As Akane paused in the entryway, there was a knock on the front door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened it, and there was Nabiki, in a slick leather jacket, giving her a smirk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Akane.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nabiki,” she replied, moving to the side as her sister swanned in. “It’s been a little while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It has, hasn’t it?” Nabiki took off her shoes. Threw her jacket on top. Walked towards the living room, Akane smiling exasperatedly behind her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what’s up?” Akane asked as they sat across from each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have tickets tonight, to a play, and no date,” said Nabiki. “So of course, I thought I would offer them to my favorite little sister.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane laughed. “Normally I would find this last minute imposition annoying, but—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But?” Nabiki asked, raising one eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t been out of the house in a while,” said Akane. “So, sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great!” Nabiki beamed. “But you know that means you have to wear something other than sweats, for once, right? And you have to brush your hair?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I know,” Akane replied with irritation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Akane, I’m done—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke paused in the entrance to the living room, freezing when he saw Nabiki.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sugishima?” Nabiki asked, blinking up at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. Ah, shit. Oh, fuck,” he said, sighing. “I work for you, don’t I?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” asked Akane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not anymore,” said Nabiki. “You haven’t been in for over a month!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I sorta—” Densuke rubbed the back of his neck. “I sorta forgot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You forgot? To come to work for a month?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You two work together?” Akane asked, looking back and forth between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like I said, not anymore,” Nabiki replied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh—” Densuke squinted one of his eyes. Crossed his arms. “Sorry about that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’ve been here? Akane’s new boyfriend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not my boyfriend!” Akane snapped. “He’s the new instructor for the dojo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“New instructor?” said Nabiki. “What do you need a new instructor for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean—” Akane hesitated. She hadn’t thought about it until Densuke came, but she did need another instructor. “It’s a lot, running this place alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you implying?” Nabiki asked. “You think I haven’t done my part? I’ve poured enough yen into this place to buy it ten times over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not what I meant!” Akane yelled. “I just—I just can’t do everything myself, all the time!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was hard to admit. But it was true. And she had never even thought about it, until Densuke came. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Uh-oh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” said Nabiki. “Let’s hope he’s a more reliable employee for you than he was for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stood. Walked out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait!” Akane called after her. “What about the play?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki paused in the entryway of the house, Akane and Densuke both having followed her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be back here at six o’clock. Wear a dress. Hair brushed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then she was gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane turned on Densuke then, his back against the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you two really work together?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I worked for her, yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said—” Akane licked her lips. Swallowed. “You said you wanted to work here because the Tendo dojo was famous! I thought that meant you watched the tournaments, but you must have heard about it from Nabiki, didn’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well—” He scratched his chin. “She did mention her family had a dojo. And I looked it up. Saw all the tournament footage. And I just thought—I’ve always wanted to teach martial arts. Always. What I was born for. And it just seemed like the right fit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t think to tell me you knew my sister?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raised his eyebrows. Tilted his head a little. “I genuinely forgot?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I forgot?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have something wrong with your brain or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hesitated. His expression suddenly became somber, serious. “I did. Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t stand it. She looked away. “Well. Try not to forget anything important again, all right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right. Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, don’t—” She shook her head. “I don’t really know if you did anything wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed, the somber expression disappearing. “Okay. I take my apology back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This made her laugh, a tiny chuckle. “I wouldn’t go that far.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She suddenly realized how close she had gotten to him. Their chests nearly touching. She blushed. Stepped back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” she said. “I have to go brush my hair.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It took Akane a long while to get all the knots out of her hair. She used her detangling brush, and still had to pick several of them apart with her fingers. Most days she just kept it put up in a thick, messy bun, only taking it down to readjust. Tonight, though, she did want to at least look a little nice. So she worked out all the tangles, at times having to pull one strand at a time out of a large clump. When she was finished, her long hair was shiny, smooth. She let it fall over her shoulders. She still kept her bangs regularly cut, to keep out of her eyes, but she hadn’t even trimmed the ends off of the rest of it in years. Probably she should, soon, but it would have to do for now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hadn’t worn a dress in a long time either. Probably not since the funeral. And she wasn’t going to wear that one. But she had a nice pink one that wasn’t too dated. Appropriate for the play. Not too wrinkled. She felt somewhat nice about herself for the first time in a long time as she headed downstairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“—I ain’t coming back, so stop asking!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki and Densuke were in the entryway at the bottom of the stairs, apparently arguing. They both looked up at Akane as she began her descent. Nabiki looked clearly pleased and relieved. Densuke looked—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane felt panic rise in her chest as she saw Densuke’s expression. Oh no. He’s gay, isn’t he? No. Gay guys don’t look at me like that. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She reached the bottom of the stairs, still aware of Densuke’s eyes on her. His lopsided smile. She felt a blush rise on her face. Oh no! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right, Akane, let’s go!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane turned to her sister, glad for the interruption. "All right. Let me grab my coat."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Here." Densuke already had it in his hands, ready for her. He held it up, as though to put it on her, but she pulled it away and put it on herself. Ignored his goofy, lopsided grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm ready."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She left with her sister, not looking back. They took a cab to the theater, and Akane had hoped they could ride in silence, but Nabiki was still angry with Densuke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I can't believe you're letting him stay with you! Teach classes! What were you thinking?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane shrugged. She still didn't know. "He is a good teacher. Was he not a good employee?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He was," said Nabiki, crossing her arms. "That's the thing. One of my best. Hard working. Charming. I would hire him back in a minute."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Really?" Akane asked, blinking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah. I had no idea he had this weird martial arts fantasy."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He is good, though."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I guess," Nabiki said, sighing. "It was a little strange that he was working for me in the first place. His family is loaded. He is too, I suppose."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What?" Akane asked. "I thought he was homeless. Poor. He sure doesn't act rich."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki shrugged. "I suppose old money is really as eccentric as they say."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane paused. "He said—he said he has memory problems. That he's not used to talking with people. That there was something wrong—something wrong with his—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stopped. She didn't want to cry on their night out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, Akane," Nabiki sighed. "Is that it? He reminds you of—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," said Akane. "No. No one does. No one could."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You know what?" Nabiki asked. "Let's talk about something else besides boys, hmm?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay," said Akane, trying to smile. "Like what?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki started talking about work. Akane loved her sister, but the intricacies of Nabiki's business were beyond her understanding and interest. Still, she tried to <em>appear</em> interested, nodding along, asking questions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily they couldn't talk during the play, and Akane refused to enable her sister's smoking habit at intermission. Instead, she went to the concessions stand at the front of the theater and drank as much whiskey as she could. Nabiki was irritated with how intoxicated Akane was, but had gotten used to Akane's inappropriate drinking over the years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So they both went to a bar after the play. Nabiki tried her best, but still couldn't outdo her sister in putting back shots. They climbed into another cab. Akane was smashed. Nabiki helped her to the door of her house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke caught Akane as she stumbled inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You'll take care of her, won't you?" Nabiki burped in the doorway. "Cab's waiting."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh," Densuke said, Akane leaning against his chest. "Sure."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Make sure she drinks some water. And absolutely no funny business."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not that kinda guy—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm saying that for your sake. She's even stronger when she's drunk."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki left, sloppily sliding the door shut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke looked down at Akane, her eyes glassy, her nose red. But she was smiling, holding onto his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay, I'll help you upstairs—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Nah," she said, pushing him away. "I can do it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took one step. Her foot slid backwards and she tilted forward. Densuke easily caught her around the waist. Lifted her into his arms. Carried her up to her room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Stupid," she said. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I agree," he replied, grinning and pushing her door open with his foot. "You are stupid."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He set her down on the bed, where she flopped back, crossed her arms, and frowned at him. "I coulda done it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I believe you." He took a seat in her desk chair next to the bed. "It was probably safer this way, though."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Who cares about being safe?" Akane snorted and rolled her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I do," he said. "I care about your safety."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just do."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She squinted her eyes at him. "Listen. If you have a crush on me, get over it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You think I have a crush on you?" He was amused. She wanted to punch him in the face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not stupid," Akane said. "I saw how you looked at me earlier."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He set his mouth in a tight line. "First time I saw you brush your hair, is all."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another frown. "So are you gay or what?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not." He sounded impatient. Good. She was tired of his nice guy act.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But you don't have a girlfriend?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Have you ever had a girlfriend?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," he said again. "But I had a fiancée, once."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Really?" She turned on her side, clutching her pillow underneath her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But you didn't get married?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why not?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Long story."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Tell me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hesitated. "Well, I suppose it is pointless to argue with a drunk woman."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It is."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay," he laughed. "Once, long ago, my parents set me up in an arranged marriage."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"How old fashioned."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes, me and her both thought so. Even so, I fell in love with her immediately. The first day we met."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You did?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I did. And I didn't know it, but she loved me too. Just as much as I did. Maybe more."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So what happened?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We were kids. Teenagers, you know? Stubborn. So neither one of us were ever honest about our feelings."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane's eyelids felt heavy. "But if you both loved each other, you still could have gotten married."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Maybe," he said in a soft voice. "But I left her."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What? Why?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I had to go someplace she couldn't follow me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"College? In America?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't say anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane turned onto her other side, facing away from him. "You didn't love her, then."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"If you really loved her, you wouldn't have left her."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long pause. She heard him stand. Walk to her door. "Maybe you're right. I'll get you some water."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt like a real asshole as she heard her door click. She pretended to be asleep when he came back. Set the glass of water on her desk. Left again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No funny business. Not even an attempt. Maybe she had misread him. Maybe she had seen something she wanted to see. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head in the dark. No. She never wanted to see a man look at her that way ever again. She absolutely, positively did not want that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not even a little.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. A Very Easy Distance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Good morning! How do you feel?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Terrible," grumbled Akane as she sank down to the floor, resting her head on the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke laughed, P-chan at his feet. He set a pitcher of ice water and a large plate full of greasy food in front of Akane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thought that might be the case."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane looked up at him, her head heavy and pounding. "You're being so nice to me, even after I was such a jerk to you last night."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Nah," he said, shrugging. "I deserved it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You didn't," she said as he sat down. Tears started forming in her eyes. "You really didn't."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah." He scratched his chin awkwardly. "It's fine, really. Don't feel bad."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane poked the eggs on her plate with her chopsticks. "Nabiki says I drink too much."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Do you?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You seemed so responsible," Densuke replied, smiling. P-chan stuck his snout in Densuke's lap, whining for food. Densuke gave him a small piece of bacon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What happened to not giving him people food?" Akane asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I can't help it," Densuke replied. "He's cute."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed, finally. "I understand."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey, listen," Densuke said. "I did want to talk to you about something."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What's that?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I entered a tournament. For this Saturday."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Really?" Akane swallowed a mouthful of egg.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah. It's even gonna be on television! I thought it would be good for the dojo." His smile faded into a look of concern. "If it's okay with you, that is."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh. Yeah," Akane said. "It's a good idea. But I have classes that day, and Kasumi is coming for dinner—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's fine." He grinned again. "You'll probably get bored watching me win over and over again."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled too. "I doubt that, but I do think it will be a good advertisement. I never enter tournaments myself."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why not?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged. "Just not a fan of all that attention."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, don't worry," Densuke said, his grin growing wider. "I love attention."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed, covering her mouth so food didn't spill out.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I believe you."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoga Hibiki, aged thirty, settled down on the couch in his living room. In the dining room, his wife was working with his five year old son to help make sure he knew his address and phone number for when he got lost, as he had already clearly inherited Ryoga's directional insanity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoga scratched his chin, wondering if his beard needed a trim. He could clean it up after he watched the martial arts tournament. He picked up the remote, turned on the television. The first couple matches were pretty standard. He was waiting for the high level fights. Those could sometimes be interesting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The camera closed on the next opponent, the chiron displaying his name as the announcer gave information through voice over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"—Densuke Sugushima, of the Tendo dojo, located in Nerima, Tokyo—"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoga sat up. Leaned on his knees. Tendo dojo? Who was this guy? He looked closely at the screen as the fighters took their places. The guy was handsome, clean cut. Grinning confidently. Ryoga didn't recognize him. Akane-san had started taking male students? Seemed hard to believe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fight started. And Ryoga was captivated. This guy leapt in the air, seeming to hover there forever. He was fast. He was strong. Never hesitated for a second. The match ended. The fighter from the Tendo dojo moved upwards. Easily beat his next opponent. And the next. And the next.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh my god," Ryoga whispered to himself. "It's him."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Densuke-san, what were you thinking in that final fight?"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoga watched the screen. Watched as the guy shrugged. Smirked. Thumbed his nose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"I was just thinking it was too easy."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoga laughed. It really was him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"And if anyone wants to even be half as good as me, come take a class at the Tendo dojo!"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoga laughed again. Of course. If anyone could—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You son of a bitch," Ryoga said, smiling to himself. "I don't know how you did it, but you did it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood up, his feet light. Went to the dining room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Honey? I have to leave for a bit."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed. "Where are you going?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The Tendo dojo."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Really? Been a while."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know. I shouldn't be long."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's all right. Take your cell phone. Tell Akane I said hi."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sure. Bye Rantaro. Stay close to mom, okay?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay, Dad. Love you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Love you too."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he left, forgetting to trim his beard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a chilly morning when Akane woke up to the sound of scratching at her door. She yawned and stretched, wrapping her robe around herself to keep warm. P-chan was on the other side of her door, whining and looking up with sad eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"P-chan? What's wrong?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dog whined again and walked in a small circle before heading down the hallway. Akane followed him, concern growing in her chest. P-chan stopped outside of Densuke's room. Pawed at the door. Whined again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane reached over. Slid the door open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Densuke?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room was dark. An unmoving lump under the futon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something foul leaped into her throat. She threw herself into the room, landing on her knees by his bedside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Densuke!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Movement. He turned over. Pulled the covers down just a few inches. Looked at her, bleary eyed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Akane?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sneezed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, you're sick."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His face was red. His nose running. Eyes watering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm fine," he said in a thick voice. "I got classes toda—ACHOO!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane felt his forehead with one hand. "You're burning up. I'll reschedule them. You stay in bed."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm fine," he repeated, and attempted to sit up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No!" She put a hand on his chest. Forced him back down. "No. You're sick."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't argue again. Settled back into his pillow. "Okay."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane felt panic like she hadn't felt in ages. Tried to shove it away. It was just a cold. He'll be fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll get you some medicine. Some water. You know I can't cook, but I can at least heat up a can of soup."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head. "I'm not hungry. Maybe later."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay. I'll be right back."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded. Sniffled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking, she made her way downstairs. Fetched medicine from the bathroom. A box of tissues. A glass of water. Poured food into P-chan's bowl, even though the dog had remained upstairs, laying at Densuke's side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She found herself breathing heavily before she went back upstairs. Too much worry. She shouldn't be so worried. It was just a cold. He would get better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She brought him everything he needed. Helped him take some medicine. He was meek. Grateful. Sleepy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Is there anything else you need?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled his covers up. Looked away. "It's stupid."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What is it?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"When I was little, and got sick, my mom used to—" He closed his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Read to me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane smiled kindly. "I can read to you. I have plenty of books. What kind of story do you want?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"My favorite book is, uh—Pride and Prejudice?!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another one of those moments where he seemed confused when revealing something about himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Really?" Akane asked. "I'm surprised."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Me too," he grumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled again. "I'll be right back."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She went to her own room. Pulled out the battered copy of Pride and Prejudice from her desk, where she always kept it. Returned to Densuke's room. Sat by his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You know," she said. "It's my favorite too."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know," he murmured, his eyes closed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And how did you know?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You just seem like the type of girl who would like it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hmm," she said. "Maybe your fever is higher than I thought."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened the book. "I only have an English copy, is that okay?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sure." Another shrug. "I guess I spent ten years in America, so apparently I know English now."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed. "All right. And I was in the middle of a reread, so do you mind if I start where I left off?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's fine," he sighed. "I know—I know it by heart."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sounded a little surprised again, but said nothing else. Akane opened the book and began reading.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Perfectly so, I thank you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She found that she was to receive no other answer, and, after a short pause added:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in the future. He has many friends, and is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep it or quit it on the same principle.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I should not be surprised,” said Darcy, “if he were to give it up as soon as any eligible purchase offers.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his friend; and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the trouble of finding a subject to him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He took the hint, and soon began with, “This seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I believe she did—and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mr. Collins appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a wife.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding—though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light it is certainly a very good match for her.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It must be very agreeable for her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day’s journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I should never have considered the distance as one of the </span>
  </em>
  <span>advantages</span>
  <em>
    <span> of the match,” cried Elizabeth. “I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled </span>
  </em>
  <span>near </span>
  <em>
    <span>her family.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She looked up. “I always loved that bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm,” he mumbled, his eyes closed again. “Keep reading, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Akane read a little further, stopping right after Darcy confessed his love. Densuke was snoring. P-chan, on his back, pressed up against him, tongue lolling out of his mouth, snoring as well. Akane smiled. Closed the book. Stood and moved to walk out of the room. Paused and looked back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke, sleeping. Tan face flushed. Drool running out of his open mouth. He looked young. Vulnerable. Weak. She closed her eyes. Shook her head. Closed the door behind her as she returned to her own room. Sank down on her bed, resting her hand on the book beside her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart pounded. Her chest felt warm and like it was being torn in half. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’ll never love again.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. His Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He got better in no time. It was just a cold, after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she had cancelled his classes for the whole week, just in case. He grumbled about it, but only a little. He could tell she was just worried. And on Saturday, she asked him a question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Densuke-kun?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s up?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to visit a couple of friends of mine. Is it all right if I take P-chan with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have friends?” he asked, teasing, grinning at her as she stood in the doorway of the dojo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very funny,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. “They’re old family friends. The Saotomes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He froze in the middle of his kata. Turned to her. “Saotome?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded. “I’ve known them for a long time. Genma was my father’s best friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” he said. He paused. Licked his lips. “Are they—are they nice?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gave him a confused, but polite look. “Yes. They’re very dear to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” he said, a gentle smile crossing his face. “Good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I take P-chan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Yeah. Sure. That’s fine. He loves meeting new people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She let a little giggle escape. “We should be back after lunch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great. Have fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she left, P-chan in tow, new sweater on, wagging his tail. He was left, alone, in the dojo, and found himself sweating. So he pulled out a practice dummy and set it up outside. Started hammering it with punch after punch. He was starting to feel better. He kept worrying about Akane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Saotome.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swallowed the lump in his throat. Kept punching the dummy. After a thousand or so punches, he paused. Took a breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then someone punched him in the face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the—?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hit the dirt. His jaw was sore. No one had hit him that hard in years. So when he looked up at his attacker, he wasn’t exactly surprised. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ryoga?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Standing over him. Grinning. Hands on his hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew it,” said Ryoga. “I knew it was you! You son of a bitch!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled, climbing to his feet. “But I don’t appreciate the punch in the face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, you just said my name!” Ryoga, still smiling, rolled his eyes. “You know who I am! And I know who you are!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No reply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoga kept smiling. “I know, I always fell for your disguises when we were teenagers. But I saw you! On television!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For the tournament,” he sighed. “Right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And man, I knew it. I don’t know how you did it. But who else could it be? You’re one of a kind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s true.” He kept the smile from tugging at his lips too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is great! This is incredible! If anyone could do this, of course it was you! How? How did it happen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeated through gritted teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still denying it? I don’t get it,” said Ryoga. “Didn’t you come back for Akane? You must have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said one more time. He felt like he was going to burst. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoga stopped smiling. Raised an eyebrow. Looked at him closely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, said his name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled. The relief washed over him with the change. Ryoga’s mouth dropped open. And then he started crying, and the two men hugged tightly. Ryoga pulled back. Kept touching his friend’s face. They laughed together. And then they went inside, and he told Ryoga his story.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“By the way, nice beard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you like it?” Ryoga laughed and rubbed his chin. “I couldn’t grow it until I was twenty-six.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah. After my son was born.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a son?” he asked, voice soft. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said Ryoga. “Rantaro.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ran—” He tried not to cry. “Rantaro?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Ryoga said again. “Exactly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m home!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane’s voice, from the entryway. She appeared in the living room a few moments later, P-chan hopping into Densuke’s lap, pushing his snout against Densuke’s face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Ryoga-kun! I didn’t know—how good to see you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane, a genuine, wide smile on her face, took a seat next to him at the table and gave him a warm hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Akane-san.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s been almost fifteen years. Akane.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Akane.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled back. Squeezed his hands. “How is your wife? How is Rantaro-chan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re both great. She says hi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell her I said hi back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I see you’ve met Densuke,” Akane said. “Our new instructor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, Akane-s—Akane. I know him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked. “You do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s—” Ryoga opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Frustrated, he closed his mouth. Tried again. No words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you that you can’t,” muttered Densuke, scratching P-chan between the ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s what?” asked Akane. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An old friend,” said Densuke, as Ryoga struggled to find the words. “We met when I was traveling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Akane asked. “What a coincidence!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw him on television,” said Ryoga slowly. “During the tournament. And recognized him. Saw he was with the Tendo dojo. So I came here. To visit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked over at Densuke, who nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” said Akane. “I suppose it makes sense. Two martial artists as good as you two would be bound to run into each other sometime.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said Ryoga, sighing with relief. “We sure were.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane smiled again. “If you had come by earlier, I would have had you visit Genma and Nodoka with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh? You went to visit—” Ryoga shared a quick glance with Densuke. “Them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” said Akane “I haven’t been to see them, as often as I should. I’m trying to change that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How were they?” blurted out Densuke. “I mean, were they—okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They were fine,” replied Akane, confused. “Nodoka made a wonderful lunch. She even made special food for P-chan!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“P-chan?” asked Ryoga, his eyes bulging out of his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke grinned. Pointed at the dog in his lap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You—you named your dog P-chan?” Ryoga started laughing. And laughed. And laughed. Until he held his stomach, doubled over at the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did!” Densuke replied, matching the laughter in volume and intensity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s so funny?” asked Akane, who had never figured it out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, nothing, nothing,” Ryoga replied, shaking his head and wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s a good name. I like it a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just like my old pet,” said Akane. “You remember my pig?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoga, his smile tight, nodded. “Of course I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” said Densuke, clearing his throat. “I was just thinking. Ryoga. How would you like to have a sparring match with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoga turned to him, eyes wide and sparkling. “Absolutely!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akane and P-chan sat over to the side of the dojo as Densuke and Ryoga circled each other. They were both grinning, their opening stances nearly identical. She was wondering when they could have met. Old friends? But Densuke had been in America for ten years. Had Ryoga ever been that lost? That he managed to cross an ocean? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the way they moved as their fight began proved they knew each other, and they knew each other well. While Densuke tried to stay in the air, Ryoga countered with massive strength. Their styles were complementary and opposite. It was fascinating to watch, as a martial artist. But as Densuke moved, his speed increasing, Akane found herself becoming uneasy. She couldn’t figure out why. There was something in his movements she found off putting, in a way she didn’t when she had sparred with him or when she had watched him teach classes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time their match ended in a mutually agreed upon draw, she felt like she was going to throw up. The two men shook hands, still friendly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane? Are you all right?” Densuke, with concern.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she said, standing up. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You looked a little pale.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine!” she snapped. Shook her head. “I mean—sorry, I just—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all right,” said Densuke. “Let’s go in. I’ll make dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane nodded, and followed them out of the dojo, even though she didn’t feel like eating. Densuke made curry, and it was delicious, even though she only managed a few bites.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not hungry, Akane?” Ryoga asked as they sat at the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess not,” she replied softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m going to put away the leftovers, then,” said Densuke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can clean up—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No way. You’re not feeling well. Sit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice was still friendly, but firm. She listened. He smiled and left the room, leaving her with Ryoga.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” Ryoga said. “I like him a lot. He’s a good guy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He does seem—nice,” said Akane, looking down at her lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you like him, Akane?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked up. Met his gaze. Her old friend, so serious. “Not like that. Not like what you’re thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What am I thinking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ryoga.” She didn’t want to be angry. But she was tired of the ideas everyone had. Just because there was a handsome man nearby. “Don’t you start.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane, I—” He paused. “We’ve been friends for nearly fifteen years, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In all that time, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t say anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just—be more open minded.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said no!” Hot, burning tears in her eyes. “I’m never going to open my heart again! Not ever!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was wrong, to yell at Ryoga. All he wanted was for her to be happy. That’s all anybody ever wanted for her. But she would never be happy. Not ever, ever, ever. And they all needed to understand. There was no room. No opening. No possibility. Not ever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All done,” said Densuke, returning from the kitchen. His smile was so happy-go-lucky. So carefree. She hated it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane!” Ryoga yelled. Yelled! At her! He never had. “Akane, doesn’t he remind you of anybody?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” she shouted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who?” asked Densuke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoga turned to look at him. Looked back at Akane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Her fiance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt it. Her face turned red. With anger? Embarrassment? Something else?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stomped her foot. Like a child. Ran out of the room. Into the dojo, where it was cool. Sank down to the ground, pulled her knees up to her chest. Cried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane was so tired of crying. She had been crying for years. Things couldn’t keep going on like this. What was the point of keeping on? She would never be happy. She would always be crying, or on the verge of it. She would keep drinking. Being miserable. What was she going to do for the rest of her life? She didn’t want it. Didn’t want the rest of her life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke, in the dojo. Worried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave me alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned her head. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said no.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He came and sat next to her, legs crossed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want, Densuke?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To know what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to know about your fiance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glared at him out of the corner of her eye. Let her legs fall so that they stretched out in front of her. Put her hands in her lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? That’s what you wanna know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed. Maybe she should tell him. Then he would leave her alone forever. See how pathetic she was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was the love of my life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re not married.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She interlaced her fingers, fiddling them together. “It’s like your story. Arranged marriage. We were sixteen. Hated each other! Argued, all the time. He was such an arrogant, stupid, inconsiderate jerk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that so?” He sounded a little irritated, but she kept on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I fell in love with him anyway.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did. I loved him so much. But—” She bit her lip. Shook her head. “But he didn’t love me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke didn’t say anything. She didn’t look at him. Took a deep breath. Looked up at the calligraphy on the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There were other girls. I—I know I just called him arrogant. A jerk. And he was, but—he was also strong. Handsome. Kind. So kind. He really just wanted to help people, all the time. Just wanted to make sure everyone was happy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know so.” A wistful smile crossed her face, and she kept looking up at the wall. “So of course there were other girls. And they were affectionate. Strong. They could cook. Not like me. How could I ever compete?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So that’s what happened? He married another girl?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” said Akane. “He died.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He did?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was only eighteen. And he got sick. And died. And I thought—my entire world, was gone. I had always thought he would live forever. But he died. Not even from a fight. From being sick, like anybody else. And he didn’t deserve that. Not that anybody does, but—he was so young. So strong. It was just so unfair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, if you were just kids—” Densuke frowned. “How do you know? That he was the love of your life?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, because if he had lived, if he were here—” She paused. Took a deep breath. “That even if he were married to another girl. Or just somewhere away from me, I would still be hung up on him. I could never move on from him, dead or alive. And if you’ve ever loved someone like that, then you know it’s—it’s once in a lifetime. I was lucky, to get to feel that way, even just for a little while. I could never feel that way about anyone, ever again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even though you think he didn’t love you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know he didn’t love me,” she replied. “And yes. I still feel lucky to have known him and gotten the chance to love him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was quiet. She stopped crying. Things did feel a little better now that she had told him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for telling me, Akane.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No thanks needed,” she said, and stood up. Walked to the dojo door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to her. “Akane.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She paused, resting her hand on the doorframe. Turned and met his gaze. He was standing now too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was his name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hesitated. It had been so long since she had said his name, she realized. Not even to herself. Not even to his family. And she had used to scream it all the time, hadn’t she? And now it had probably been years since she had said it out loud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke smiled back at her. “That’s pretty unusual, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “It is.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Hiding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Another week passed. Classes. Training. Cold weather. Ryoga sent her a text once he made it home safely. Another dinner with Kasumi and the children. And then Sunday, when Akane roped Densuke into a deep clean of the house and the dojo. He grumbled, but eventually agreed. P-chan even grabbed a rag with his mouth and tried to imitate Densuke cleaning the floor before getting distracted and attempted to murder his own tail.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While Akane worked to scrub behind the refrigerator, Densuke performed a thorough cleanout of the upstairs closets, including the one in the guest room. After nearly an hour, he appeared in the kitchen to ask her a question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got any power tools?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For what?” she asked, standing up from the floor. Her hair was piled high on her head, her bangs clipped back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s like a bunch of loose floorboards up there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” she asked, annoyed. “Ugh, let me see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He led her to the guest room. Showed her the now empty closet. Pushed on the end of a loose board, showing how it wiggled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” she moaned. “Are they all like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She poked at the neighboring pieces of wood, and was surprised when one lifted up completely, standing on its end. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Underneath the floorboard was a scattering of objects.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, a hidey-hole, huh?” asked Densuke, crouching down next to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess,” she murmured. Something familiar was lying right on top. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A bundle of long black hair, tied together with a faded yellow ribbon that was frayed at the ends. She picked it up, letting the strands fall over her fingers, gently touching the fragile and dry bow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hair?” asked Densuke. “Kinda creepy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s mine,” she whispered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yours?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t reply. There were other things in the floor space. A blue cardboard box. She lifted the lid, opening it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A playbill, from when she had been Juliet in high school. A picture of her, in her gi, lifting weights. Another picture, of—of Ranma, in her lap, curled up like a cat. Pressing his face to hers in a kiss. One more picture of her, in a leotard, on a balance beam, right before she fell. Another picture, a close up of her, looking over her shoulder. Tucked into half of a torn picture wallet. Still. After all this time. How had he gotten it back? Shouldn’t it have been in China?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re all you,” said Densuke in wonder. “You looked cute with short hair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She frowned. Ignored him again. There was another box.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This one was full of paper. Some full pages, torn from spiral notebooks. Some tiny scraps, sticky notes. They had different things written on them, in familiar handwriting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Akane,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry I called you uncute today. I didn’t mean it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Akane,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry about Shampoo. I don’t like her. I don’t</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Akane,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you. I only passed my math test because of you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Akane, </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I tried to read that dumb book! It’s long and in English! Why can’t you have a copy in Japanese?!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Akane,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Akane,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Akane,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I really messed up this time. I hate it when you cry. It’s all my fault. I won’t let anyone hurt you again, I promise</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Akane,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Akane,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why don’t you ever listen to me?!!!!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking, she picked up the last one. The longest one. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Akane,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m a coward. I’ll never show you this, just like I never showed you the other ones. I’m sorry. I should tell you to your face that I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’m scared. I’m really scared, Akane. And I feel like you’re the only one who understands. And I still can’t be honest with you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know it’s ending soon. And I still can’t say anything. I wish I did. I wish I married you a long time ago. I always wanted to. Could never get the words out. I’ll write them, here, one time. Even though you’ll never see it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And at the bottom of each note, every single one, the two kanji that made up his name. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ranma.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She let them fall, the papers scattering around her. His name, everywhere, over and over again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ranma. Ranma. Ranma. Ranma. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akane placed her palms flat on the ground. Hunched over. Her eyes, full of tears, but she couldn’t cry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Densuke gingerly reached down. Looked through the papers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess he loved you after all, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked up at him, shocked. Turned. Shoved all the papers back into the floor space. The photos. Her hair. Slammed the floorboard back into place, hammering it down with her fists. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane? I thought you would—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would what?” she hissed, whirling around on him. “Be happy? Are you crazy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you get it?” Her voice was thick. “If he loved me—if—if Ranma loved me—if Ranma loved me the whole time, then I really—I really messed up. It means I missed it! I missed everything! We could have—we could have—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They could have been happy. Could have been normal. Kissed. Had sex. Gotten married. Had children.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. He still would have died. But they could have been happy, together. For a little while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane rose to her feet. Pushed past Densuke. Ran. Not far. To her own room. Fell on her bed. Cried. Cried and cried and cried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really, Ranma?” she whispered, as she fell forward and clutched her pillow. “You saved my hair? You idiot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cried again. She felt sixteen. She was thirty. And she had been so convinced, for so long, of the wrong thing. Everything was even worse than she thought. Could she really go through fifty, or sixty, or seventy more years of feeling this way?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only reason she hadn’t thrown herself in front of a truck, or drank herself past a coma and into eternal slumber, or taken a knife and slit her wrists open, was the thought of her sisters. And her niece and nephews. She couldn’t cause them any more pain. Even though she hurt so badly, every day. And could never heal. The wound inside her was irreparable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it had just been made worse.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. All Wrong</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another week passed. Classes. Practice. Dinner with Kasumi. She eventually managed a smile. Summoned up the courage to watch a horror movie with Densuke, although she held P-chan close the entire time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Densuke, unfailingly kind. Jovial. Friendly. How did he manage it? She wished she could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On Friday night, neither of them had classes. He asked Akane to spar. She agreed. Changed into her gi. Met him in the dojo. Kept her stance narrow. Or at least not as wide. He was right. It helped her throw more power into her punch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re good, Akane,” he said, even though he was dodging yet another one of her kicks. “Better every time!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” she grunted, confused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He landed, and paused, falling out of his stance. He stared at her for a long moment, and she stared back, still perplexed. “Oh no. Oh no!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been going about this all wrong,” he moaned, shaking his head. “Being nice! Of course! That’s not how you would expect it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grinned. The same lopsided grin as always. But this time, something else was there. Something sly. Cunning. It put Akane on edge. She tensed her body up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m talking about the fact that honestly? You’re not that good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?!” She threw a punch. He dodged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, really? It’s pretty unattractive, being this tomboyish, especially at your age.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me?!” Another punch. Another dodge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Plus, I mean, wow. You have such a high opinion of yourself, but you’re built like a brick!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who the hell do you think you are?!” In a fury, she kicked at him, and he leapt over her leg, grinning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He landed lightly on his feet. Still grinning, he stuck his hands behind his head, casually looking away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just that macho chicks like you—” He sniffed. Turned his nose in the air. “Are really uncute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An unstoppable, burning rage ignited in her chest. Flowed down her arm into her fist. She threw one more quick, heavy punch, and out of pure reflex, shouted at the top of her lungs:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“RANMA, YOU JERK!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her fist connected with his jaw. He flew backwards, hitting the dojo floor, lying flat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane pulled her hand back. Gasped at what she had done. Ran over to his body. Fell to her knees, shaking him to make sure he was awake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Densuke, I’m so sorry—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geez, Akane, you still have the strength of a gorilla, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat up, holding his jaw. But his voice was different.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was different. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Paler. His hair longer. Black. Braided.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not Densuke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grinned, leaning forward as he bent one of his legs up. “Took you forever! Even Ryoga figured it out before you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane was frozen in place, there on the dojo floor. His face only inches from hers. Ranma’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had died. In her arms. She had felt it. Seen it. They had burned his body to ashes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Here he was, though. Looking healthy. Eighteen. Alive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands were still on his shoulder. She pulled them away. Held them close to her chest. Just stared back at him in shock. It was a dream. A hallucination. It had to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So much ran through her head. Everything over the past few months. Of course. It was him. Somehow. Somehow, it was really Ranma, right in front of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And all she could think to say was, “You named your dog P-chan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed. “I thought that would be a dead giveaway, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You—you died,” she said. Her throat was choked with tears. “You died. I was there. You died!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he said. Ranma said. “It sucked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trembling, she finally reached up. Her bones felt cold. Her fingers, slowly, slowly, touched his face. She ran her fingertips over his cheekbone, under his eyes. She knew those eyes. Down to the corner of his mouth. Pulled up into that same asinine grin. Along his jaw, to his hair. Full. Long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma,” she whispered. “Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reached up. Took her hand, held it flat against his face. “It’s me. I’m here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His skin was warm. His eyes were bright. It was real.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” she whispered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on.” He stood up, still holding her hand, helping her to her feet. “Let’s have some tea. And I’ll tell you my story.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Story</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ranma died when he was eighteen years old.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it sucked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane was holding him as he died. His spirit went right through her. Maybe that was what did it. And he watched, as she held his body. Screamed his name. Sobbed with his mother. Collapsed on the floor of his bedroom after she finally let go. And he wanted to scream with her. Tell her he was right there! But no matter how loud he tried to make his voice, no one heard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he could do was watch. Watch his funeral. Watch his mother’s heartbreak. Watch as Akane withdrew. Grew her hair long. Cried herself to sleep every single night. Stopped talking to her friends. Barely managed to talk to her sisters. Watched as she threw herself into training. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a light at his back, always. He didn’t even think about turning around to face it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kept watching. He couldn’t do anything else. Couldn’t moan or move objects, like a ghost in a movie. Although all he wanted to do was destroy every room he floated through. His body felt solid. He could feel pressure. The pain when he tried to pull his own hair. But he couldn’t affect anything in her world. Couldn’t get through to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not even when, two years after he died, after she taught her very first class, she snuck a knife out of the kitchen. Took it up to her room. Held it against her wrist for a long time, before pushing down. Trying to slice her vein open. Gasping when the first drop of blood appeared and dropping the knife before bursting into sobs and holding her wrist to herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he knew he had to do something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He marched to a hospital. Found an old man on the verge of death. Waited for him to die. And when he did, grabbed the old man’s spirit around the neck right before he walked into the light. Ranma finally faced the light himself, and yelled into it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you want this guy, you’re gonna have to deal with me first!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The God of Death appeared before him, an old man with kind eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Child, what is the meaning of this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma glared up at him, holding the spirit even tighter. “Bring me back!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bring you back where?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To life! Bring me back to life!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Child—” The God of Death sighed. “Let the other one go, hmm? Then we can talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma felt a little guilty, then. Released the other spirit from his hold. Patted him on the back. “Sorry, man. I was desperate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other spirit nodded, bewildered, but then walked through the light. And Ranma was left with the God of Death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now,” Ranma said. “Bring me back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And why should I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane needs me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane?” The God of Death said with interest. And then they were no longer in the hospital, but in the dojo, watching Akane as she taught another class. “This child?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” said Ranma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Curious. She’s supposed to live another, oh, sixty or seventy years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alone?” asked Ranma. “She can’t. I can’t leave her alone that long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There are many others she will be able to spend time with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She won’t,” said Ranma. “Look at her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The God of Death did look, then. “Perhaps you’re right. It is quite cruel to sentence her to such a lonely fate. Poor child.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So then you’ll do it? Bring me back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The God of Death raised one eyebrow. “Lots of children have lost someone they needed. Is there a reason you’re special?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma grinned. “Yeah. I’m Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was all that needed to be said. Or, at least, Ranma thought so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” said the God of Death, looking amused. “But tell me why you need to get back so desperately? And not just because she needs you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need</span>
  <em>
    <span> her</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” said Ranma. “I don’t know what’s on the other side of that light. Heaven, or hell, or reincarnation. But I ain’t going anywhere without her. She’s everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The God of Death smiled. Thought this over. Said, finally, “Ten years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ten years of service. Of training. Throughout the afterlife. And, at the end, you can fight me. If you win, well. Then I’ll bring you back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma frowned. “Why don’t we fight now? Ten years is a long time for Akane to be alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ten years, or seventy. Your choice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma hated feeling like he didn’t have the upper hand. But this was the only choice he had. So he made it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. Ten years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And so he spent ten years. Fighting. Angels, demons. Oni. Kappa. Banshees. Dragons and fairies. Anything you could think of. And helping others, who needed it. All throughout the realms of the afterlife. And he filled out a lot of paperwork.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Paperwork?” asked Akane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” said Ranma. “The entire afterlife is just a fucking beureaucracy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then, after ten years, he fought the God of Death. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Won. Easily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More paperwork. And as he stood in the office that had a door back to the world of the living, he read over his contract one more time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you understand,” said the God of Death. “You walk through that door, and you will be Densuke Sugishima.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” mumbled Ranma. “I’m not, like, killing him or nothing am I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. He doesn’t exist until you step through that door. And then you will have his memories. Your memories.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Two sets,” said Ranma. “Got it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you can only reveal yourself to three people,” said the God of Death. “And only after they address you by name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happens if I tell more than that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t. You won’t be able to. You’ll be compelled to deny it, until you’re addressed by name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right.” Ranma crossed his arms, staring at the door. “This isn’t a trick, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve seen movies. I come back to life. Marry Akane. She dies the next day. Or I die. Or some other dumb ironic bullshit happens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The God of Death laughed, a comforting sound. “No, child. I am not a trickster spirit. If she chooses, and if you choose, you will live a happy life together, for many decades, until your next life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Next life?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. And as you have messed with the way of things, in your next life, you will be cursed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, a girl again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. You will simply remember. Everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma nodded. “You know what? I think I can handle that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he walked through the door.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Right Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter contains explicit sexual content, lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Akane just stared at him with wonder. They both sat on the same side of the table in the living room. Her mug of tea remained untouched. The bun on top of her head was slipping low, so she pulled out her scrunchie. Shook her hair loose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it had been anyone but Ranma telling this story, she wouldn’t have believed it. If it had been any other kind of story, she wouldn’t have believed it was Ranma. But he was here, talking. Smiling. Laughing. P-chan by his side, Ranma idly scratching him behind the ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he was done with his story, she still couldn’t say anything. This was something she never expected to happen. Ranma, alive. Ranma, fought his way back from death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slapped her cheeks with both hands, hard. It hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akane?” He was alarmed. She looked up at him. Smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a dream,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled back. “Not a dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She touched his face again. So warm. Ran her fingers over his lips. Real. A miracle. Her heart was pumping blood through her body like it was the first time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ranma,” she said, softly. “You love me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” he said, just as soft. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Since we were sixteen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled, tears in the corner of her eyes. “All it took was you dying and fighting monsters for ten years and coming back to life to admit it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, tears of his own forming. “I’m sorry. I should have said it before. I should have said it that first day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you had said it that first day, I would have punched your lights out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand was still on his face, tracing the lines of his jaw as he laughed again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t care. I still should have said it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lifted herself up, a little. Placed her other hand on the other side of his face. Leaned in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had wanted to kiss him for so long. And had always been afraid he would reject her. Push her away, disgusted. None of that mattered anymore. How could she ever doubt him, ever again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had never really kissed anyone before, though. Only read books. Watched movies. Still, their lips fit together. And he was just as eager as she was. Wrapped his arms around her. Drew her in close, until she was sitting in his lap. Straddling him. Opened his mouth, a little, his tongue right there behind his lips. She met it with her own. They parted slightly, mouths still open, took a short breath, and their lips and tongues met again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She loved him, she loved him, oh god, how she loved him. She had loved him since they were kids. Still loved him after all this time. Would love him for the next sixty or seventy years. And after they had died, him for the second time, she would find him in the next life, and love him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands ran up her spine. She felt a thrill like she hadn’t felt in a long time as his fingers grazed the back of her neck. Tangled in her hair. Pulled her head back so he could kiss her throat. It felt amazing. Soft. Sensual She had never, ever, let herself feel like this. She had only ever wanted to feel like this around Ranma. And she had always thought he wanted no part of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akane,” he whispered into her neck. The vibrations from it drove her crazy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” she breathed, clutching at his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we go upstairs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she replied. Pushed his head back so she could face him. Kissed him on the mouth again. Pulled back. “I want you right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widened in surprise. She had surprised herself. But she wanted what she wanted, and was so, so tired of restraining herself. Ranma had fought for her. For only her. Of course she wanted to throw herself at him. Release nearly fifteen years of pent up tension. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lowered her head and kissed him fiercely, again, shoving her tongue deep into his mouth. Pushed him down so he was flat on his back. He didn’t resist. He looked excited. Grinning. Good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands were on the belt of her gi. Untied it quickly. She threw it off, over into the corner. Ranma wrapped his arms around her again as she bent forward to kiss him. His fingers on her bare back. Her hair spilling down, sliding over her skin. He was touching her bra. Easily, he unhooked it, and she almost giggled, remembering how many bras he had worn as a teenager. And then she was bare chested against him as they continued to kiss. She pushed apart the top of his gi so that his chest was bare as well. He was still muscular. Well developed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like when he was healthy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoved that thought away. Kissed his jaw. His neck. He moaned, soft, sweet. She hadn’t expected him to be able to make a sound like that, but she loved it. He put his arms between them, so he could feel her breasts. She lifted up her torso a little, even though that meant breaking their kiss. But he cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt so fucking good. She closed her eyes. Tilted her head back, her hair falling down. Let out a loud moan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bucked his hips upward, and she could feel his erection through his pants. Through her pants. She lifted herself up enough so that she could wiggle out of her bottoms. Now in just her underwear. Grinded her pelvis against him. He groaned. Clutched her ass with both hands, his fingers digging into her cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ranma,” she moaned. “Ranma!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved one hand so it was underneath her. Her panties were soaking wet. He touched her through them, although it was awkward at this angle. She lifted her hips up, again, and he pulled down her panties. Touched her where she was soaking wet. She gasped. Damn. It felt so good. She barely even touched herself like this. And then he had one, two, three fingers inside her, and she was bucking her hips back and forth, riding his hand, panting in desperation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akane,” he whispered. “Are you ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she moaned. “Oh God, yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed his pants down with his underwear. She was still on top of him, but his fingers were no longer inside of her. She raised her hips. Took hold of his cock. Lined it up with herself. Slowly lowered herself down, until she had taken him fully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” He was big. He was thick. Of course he was. It was a little uncomfortable, but it also felt incredible. She was full down to her very soul. And she had finally lost her virginity, to the only man she had ever wanted to lose her virginity to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ranma Saotome,” she whispered, leaning forward, cupping his face. He put his hands on her hips and she started to move, bouncing herself up and down, finding a rhythm. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Akane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kissed, moving together. He thrust into her from below. They both were in good shape. Had a lot of energy. And they were both so eager. Their thrusts became more powerful. Faster. Akane felt the heat rising between her legs. Deep inside her. She was going to come, for the first time in years. And the first time ever in front of somebody else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her orgasm burst through her body. She shook. Trembled. Her toes curled. And as she clamped down and vibrated around Ranma, moaning at the top of her lungs, she felt him come too, ejaculating inside of her. And she didn’t even care if she got pregnant. Not if it was with Ranma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She collapsed, panting, on top of him. He was breathing heavily too, but he held her in his arms. She could hear his heart pounding in his chest, mirroring her own. Gently, she stroked his biceps, biting her bottom lip. Everything she had ever wanted was right here in her arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. She was in his arms. He was holding her. Protecting her. Would he really never let anyone hurt her, ever again? That was a promise he had made a million years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she had a feeling he would keep it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Ranma said, running his fingers through her hair. “I wasn’t expecting that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t expecting you to be alive,” Akane replied. He had gone soft, slipped out of her. She could feel his come running down her thigh. What had she done?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” he murmured into her hair, squeezing her tight against his chest. "I just always thought we would go on a date first."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggled softly and closed her eyes. Listened to his heartbeat. Strong. Fast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I've never done that before,” Akane whispered. “Not with anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” He turned, rolling a bit so that they were on their sides, facing each other as they remained on the floor. “There hasn’t been anyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could there be?” She placed her hand against his face. Looked into his eyes. “I only ever, in my whole life, wanted you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned, ready to tease. “I think I remember you having a crush on your now brother-in-law before I came along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blushed. “It was different. I was a kid. But once I met you, that was it. It was over for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile softened. “Same. I know you thought there were other girls. But there weren’t. I never considered any of them for real. Just you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you never—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never did this either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what about—” Akane furrowed her brow. “What about Densuke?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Densuke?” He frowned. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were Densuke. You had another life. You were another person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh—” His eyes were darting around, searching the room behind her. He sat up, suddenly, releasing hold of her, and he bent over. And he was changing. His hair shrunk. Grew. His skin tanned, faded. His body changed, but only slightly, back and forth. He shook his head, firmly, one time, his hair long, black, braided. “I’m Ranma!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akane rubbed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t apologize.” He looked up at her, and she could see the distress in his eyes. “Listen, you’re right. I was Densuke. I am Densuke. I—I don’t know how to describe it. I had parents, and a grandfather, and I love them. I miss them. But I—I don’t even know if they were real. But it is real, to me. As real as you, or P-chan, or anything that ever happened to us in high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think—I hope I can understand. I’ll try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—” Ranma looked away. Set his jaw. “Densuke was different. Is different, than me, but only a little. He’s smarter. Went to college. Knows English! Wanted to be a businessman. Likes to read. But other than that, we’re the same. Happy-go-lucky. Martial artists. Can’t hold a grudge. Loves our dog. Loves you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Loves me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranma spoke slowly, a smile reappearing, even though he was still looking away. “Fell in love with you the first time he saw you. After Nabiki mentioned you ran a dojo. Looked you up. Saw you in a tournament, helping one of your students. Watched the announcer interview you. Saw you smile. But he—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranma paused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” asked Akane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Densuke never had a girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why not? Nabiki said he was charming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He—he was terrified of women,” Ranma said, his brow wrinkling as he looked to the side. “At least, romantically.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, so you were you,” Akane said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t terrified!” Ranma asserted defensively. “Just—just—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akane simply looked back at him with a teasing smile. He sighed deeply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, maybe I was a little,” Ranma muttered. “But still. We’re different. But also the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akane nodded. Moved herself close to him. Hugged him around the chest. “It felt the same, sometimes. It scared me. I thought—I thought—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I was falling in love with someone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was you, after all. But Densuke—you—were so kind. Helpful. Strong. And it did feel like all the old times we had together, when it was just the two of us, and we were able to talk and be ourselves. I should have listened to my heart earlier. Then I would have figured it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put his arm around her back. Put his fingers in her hair. Tilted her head so she looked up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akane. Look at me. You see Ranma, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one else will. Except Ryoga. Everyone else sees Densuke. Do you want to see Ranma or do you want to see Densuke?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ranma,” she replied instantly. “Always Ranma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you—I don’t know, combine the two, a little?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have such a baby face.” She blushed. “It sorta makes me feel like a creep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to look older?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought it over. “I think I can do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face changed, slightly. A sharper jaw. Laugh lines sound his eyes, faint. Two or three silver hairs at his temples, like Densuke had. Same eyes. Same smile. Ranma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is better,” she whispered. “You look grown up. And you never—you never got to grow up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears started falling from her eyes. He leaned down and kissed her softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” he whispered as they parted. “We have plenty of time now.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akane was worried that they had scarred P-chan with their activities, but it turned out the dog had a few brain cells after all and had scurried out of the room once their actions had turned too amorous. They found him sleeping peacefully under the kitchen table. They gave him some extra food so he would stay down there as the two of them went upstairs and went a few more rounds, starting in Ranma’s room and ending up in Akane’s bed. Once she finally fell asleep, Ranma took his cell phone, and flipped it around, trying a few times to get a picture of himself and Akane’s sleeping face—nothing inappropriate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he succeeded he sent the picture and a text to Ryoga.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&gt;She finally figured it out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And a reply, minutes later:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&gt;&gt;WAY TO GO BUD!!! XD XD XD XD XD XD XD</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ranma laughed and shut his phone. He had missed that dingus. The thought that Ryoga had named his son Rantaro floated through his mind again and his heart soared. What a great guy. And it would be easier to find him nowadays, with cell phones. If they had been around when he was a teenager, maybe his life would have turned out differently. Or at least, his friendship with Ryoga.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scooted down in bed, snuggled up to Akane, and in her sleep, she instinctively moved to grab hold of his arm. Ranma smiled and held her close. What an idiot, he had been, as a teenager, to ever say she was less than beautiful. He was going to love her forever, and if the God of Death even thought about going back on his word, well—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranma would find out if the God of Death could die.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Birthday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akane woke early, as she always did. But it was different. She felt warm. Safe. Calm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Ranma was holding her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stayed in his arms. They were both naked, still, and she could feel the woven fabric of the blankets on top of them. She listened to his breathing, felt his chest rise and fall. She clenched her fingers against his chest. Remembered his last day alive. How he had shuddered and exhaled and then had been gone. There was none of that now. Just steady, consistent warmth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma, alive. Ranma, in love with her. Ranma, in her bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was she allowed to feel this happy? She had never felt this happy, ever, in her whole life. Not even before he died. Not even as a child. It felt fake, almost. She never wanted to leave him. Just wanted to stay in bed forever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>P-chan started scratching at her bedroom door and whining softly. She smiled. She still had responsibilities, but they didn’t seem so daunting now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Responsibilities. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit!” Akane sat up in bed, quickly, accidentally striking Ranma with her palm, causing him to wake up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hrrrm?” he grumbled, pulling himself to a sitting position.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She scrambled out of bed, over him, running over to her dresser. “Shit!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane? What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned to him as she attempted to hop into a pair of panties, one leg still out. “It’s Kenshi’s birthday today! They’re having the party here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma grinned. “A party? Sounds like fun!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but—” She grabbed a bra, hooked it in front of her, and spun it around so she could put it on properly. “It’s gonna be in an hour, and that means Kasumi will be here any minute to help set up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Ranma said, standing up out of bed to stretch, not seeming to care if he was naked or not. “I should probably tell you, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me what?” Akane asked, dragging a brush through her hair, trying to ignore the ripping noises as it tore through her tangles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kasumi sort of knows,” Ranma said. “About me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane paused and looked up at him. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She confronted me. A while ago. She figured it out. But she didn’t say my name, so I just had to deny it. And I—I love your sister. Like my own. Don’t get me wrong. But I can only tell one more person, and I think it should be one of my parents. My mom, probably.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma looked sad. Conflicted. She wanted to take that pain away from him, but she wasn’t sure how. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll try to keep her from saying it,” said Akane. “I wish we could tell everybody.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too,” sighed Ranma. “Everyone loves Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed. “Well, not everyone. But I should tell you—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your parents are going to be at the party too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Kasumi’s kids love Grandpa Panda.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma smiled. “I’m actually really glad to hear that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Nabiki will be there,” said Akane. “And if she finds out that we’re—that we’re—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She set down her hairbrush. Looked up at him. Raised one eyebrow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, Akane?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we dating, or—” She scratched her head, looking down at the carpet. “Or what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma took a deep breath. “Well, I guess we haven’t really been on a date. But—I know. Do you want to be fiances again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane smiled. Just asking her like that. Idiot. “Yes. I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled too, in relief. “Great. Me too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled on her jeans. Zipped them up. “But what are we gonna tell everybody else? They’ll all flip if I say that I got engaged to you after two months, especially since I spent the whole time denying I liked you at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” said Ranma. “We don’t have to tell them anything. Not right away. I’ll just be Densuke, your friendly assistant instructor for the day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>P-chan barked from the other side of the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” said Akane. “We’ll make it work.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There were so many children.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma loved kids. Was good with them. But the sheer number of children that flowed into the house and through the yard and in and out of the dojo was unfathomable. Nonetheless, he did his best as Kasumi arrived, helping her prepare food, set up decorations, put together goody bags. He tried to avoid interacting with Akane too much, knowing how perceptive Kasumi could be. She would definitely be able to tell that something had happened between them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane was good with children, too. And she seemed more comfortable with the larger numbers, most likely due to the fact her entire job was teaching class after class of children in a fairly disciplined art. So Ranma kept to the kitchen, letting Akane try to stop any potential sticky destruction the little ones might cause. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenshi, an ever upbeat little boy, was delighted with everything. His friends, his presents, playing with P-chan. The party was well underway as Ranma started to break up a bag of ice in the kitchen sink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kasumi came in through the door behind him, carrying an empty bowl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Densuke-kun, thank you so much for all your help today!” She opened a bag of chips and started pouring it into the bowl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned around to face her, wiping his hands on his pants. Grinned. “You’re welcome. I just hope the kids are having a good time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Based on all their screaming, I would say they certainly are,” Kasumi said, her smile as calm as ever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma laughed. “I agree.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello? Oh, Kasumi, here you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A familiar voice. And then, in the kitchen doorway, his mother.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodoka smiled at Kasumi, handing her the presents she had brought for Kenshi. She had a shopping bag over her shoulder that she lifted to set on the table. Ranma watched her silently, a lump growing in his throat. She was smiling, but she looked pale. He wanted to tell her right then, yell that it was him. Mom, it’s me, it’s Ranma. I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodoka looked over at him, her expression curious, but no signs of recognition on her part. “Hello, I’m Nodoka. Are you one of the parents?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m—” He shook his head. He was going to cry. He couldn’t speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is Densuke,” said Kasumi, looking back and forth between him and Nodoka. She was saving him, and she didn’t even know why or how. He had never appreciated her enough when he was alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m still alive. There’s time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, the instructor Akane hired,” Nodoka said. “Nice to meet you. I’m Nodoka Saotome.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She bowed, politely, properly. He bowed back, too deep, and replied while staring at the ground, “Nice to meet you too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nodoka, where are they putting the presents?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma snapped his back up straight. There, next to his mother. His father. He looked old. Tired. The man he had spent so much of his life with. Who could be a real dick. But had also taught him everything he knew. And more. Had brought him here, to the Tendo dojo, where he had met Akane. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew he was staring. He couldn’t stop. Watched as Kasumi took the present from his father, turned and added it to the pile on the kitchen counter. Watched as his father said something that made Kasumi laugh slightly and his mother roll her eyes, hiding a smile behind her kimono sleeve. Watched as he finally looked up, over at Ranma, and didn’t recognize him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Densuke,” Ranma replied quickly. “I”m Densuke Sugishima.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah yes, the instructor,” said Genma. He adjusted his glasses. “Akane says you’re pretty good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma felt a familiar thrill of challenge in his chest. He grinned. “She’s right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprised, Genma let out a laugh. “Well, if there’s time later, perhaps we can have a sparring match in the dojo, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Genma—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no,” said Ranma, interrupting his mother. “I’d love to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GRANDPA PANDA!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tiny little Kenshi’s footsteps sounded in the hallway before his body barreled headfirst into Genma’s stomach. Genma reflexively grabbed the boy’s ankles and turned him upside down, his arms dangling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Birthday boy!” Genma laughed, giving him a little bounce. “You’re excited!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m five today!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know! So me and Auntie Nodoka brought you five presents!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?! That’s a lot!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is a lot,” said Kasumi. “Too much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t mind,” said Nodoka. “Let us spoil them, a bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kasumi smiled softly. “All right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma’s chest seized up in pain. They didn’t have any grandchildren of their own, of course. And they thought they never would. He wanted to tell them they would, soon, if he had anything to say about it. If Akane wanted. He hoped she wanted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Panda!” shouted Kenshi. “I want to see the panda!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma filled a nearby glass with cold tap water and handed it to Kasumi, who passed it to Nodoka, who dumped it over her husband’s head. Genma grew into a large cuddly panda and tossed Kenshi in the air, catching him as the boy shouted with glee. Nodoka and Kasumi laughed and followed the panda back out into the living room, leaving Ranma alone in the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had a typhoon of emotions swirling around inside. It was wonderful, to see his parents smiling, caring for Kasumi’s children, here in the dojo. And it hurt, more than anything, to not tell them he was right there, in front of their eyes. They looked sad behind their smiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kasumi? Where is—?” Akane entered the kitchen, lifting the curtain above her head, her hair clipped up and away from her face. “Oh. Densuke.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re alone. Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma.” She smiled and his heart melted. “Where is Kasumi?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m surprised you didn’t pass her. She went out with Grandpa Panda.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” said Akane, stepping closer to him. “So you saw your parents.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did,” he said, a little sad. She was right in front of him, so he put his hands on her waist. She rested her own hands on his chest, looking up at him. This was new, to both of them, but came so easily. “They look good. Good as they can, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They have been really good to Kasumi’s kids,” Akane said, smoothing his sweater flat with her palms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish—I wish I had given them grandkids,” Ranma said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane looked up at him, still smiling, but a little confused. “Well, it’s like you said. We have plenty of time to do that now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned his head down to her in surprise. “Really? You wanna have kids with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” she said. “Wasn’t that the whole point of us getting engaged in the first place? To ‘sire progeny,’ or however your dad put it?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed. “Sure, but I want to be a dad. Do you want to be a mom? And not just cause it’s what our parents want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma,” said Akane, her voice firm and playful at the same time. “When have I ever done something just because our parents wanted?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So stubborn,” he murmured as he leaned down to kiss her. “I love that about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lifted herself up on her toes, and their lips met warmly. Everything was going to be okay. He wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They tore themselves apart, blushing up to their ears, at the sound of a new voice in the doorway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Holding a bottle of wine around the neck, her eyes wide with shock. How had he been so stupid? So careless? Akane just had to come in and smile at him, and throw all of his senses out the window. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both Ranma and Akane held up their hands, palms out, fingers spread apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not what you think,” they said in unison.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh really?” asked Nabiki, setting the wine on the counter with a clang. “Cause it sure looked like you two were making out during your nephew’s birthday party.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well—” Akane swallowed. “I—listen—it’s—listen!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m listening,” Nabiki said coolly, crossing her arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—um—he—” Akane glanced over at Ranma. Back at her sister. She sighed. “We were making out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane!” said Ranma.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t look at him. “She was going to find out eventually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eventually? How long has this been going on?” Nabiki asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh—” Ranma and Akane looked at each other again. Fourteen years. They both wanted to say it. Couldn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Long enough,” said Akane, her temper finally reaching her mouth. “And it’s none of your business anyway!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse you?!” replied Nabiki. “You’re just going to make out in the kitchen with some stranger ten feet away from Ranma’s parents?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not a stranger!” shouted Akane. “You worked with him!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And he flaked out on me to, apparently, seduce my little sister and steal my family dojo!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa,” said Ranma, stepping between them. “That’s out of line.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it?” asked Nabiki. She had never been one to back down, so she stared Ranma right in the eyes, even though all she saw was Densuke. “I worked with you for nearly two years, and you never even once seemed to want to do anything except advance through the company! Then suddenly you disappear and I find you here with your tongue down my sister’s throat? Are you kidding me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love her,” said Ranma. It was as much of the truth that he could tell her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki scoffed. “Lots of boys love her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s different,” whispered Akane. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki glared at her sister, pushing Ranma aside. “Is he, Akane? Is he different? For over ten years, I’ve watched you cry and drink yourself into a puddle and say there would never be anyone but Ranma. And this guy, with his stupid haircut and even stupider dog moves in and suddenly everything changes all at once?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane bit her lip. Held in her tears. “Yes. I love him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The color drained from Nabiki’s face. Her energy seemed to dissipate. “You do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane nodded, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki seemed to soften. Put her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane looked her in the eyes. Nodded. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki pulled her in close. Hugged her. Akane hugged back, still crying a little. When they pulled apart, Nabiki had tears in her eyes as well. She shook her head and then turned her attention on Ranma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen here, Densuke-kun,” said Nabiki. “If she loves you like she says, you are very, very lucky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma smiled. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you better not ever leave her. Or I’ll make sure you have hell to pay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma nodded, still smiling. “I understand completely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right,” said Nabiki sighing. “Maybe I should open this bottle of wine then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None for me, thanks,” said Akane. Both Nabiki and Ranma looked at her in surprise. “I’m trying to stop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good for you,” said Nabiki, searching a drawer for a corkscrew. “But I’m not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane smiled. “One other thing, Nabiki.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Nabiki said, positioning the corkscrew over the top of the bottle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t tell anyone. About me and Densuke. Not yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cork made a pop as Nabiki managed to free it from the bottle. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to make a scene at a kid’s birthday party.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Despite Nabiki’s tentative approval, Ranma and Akane still tried to stay apart from each other for the rest of the party. There were enough children in the way that it proved to be fairly easy, even after cake was eaten and presents unwrapped. Kenshi was grateful for every single gift, no matter how small or large. He was really a good kid, Ranma saw how easy it was for his parents to spoil him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Several children left afterwards, but there were still a dozen or so left by the time Genma decided to change back from being a panda. He approached Ranma in the living room and flashed him a big grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma nodded. “Ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The children gathered in the dojo to watch the match. Mirai was the most excited, clenching her hands in excitement and trying to remain seated. Toya went to go read in his grandfather’s old room. Kenshi was more interested in playing with P-chan than in actually paying attention to the fight, but sat next to his mother nonetheless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane sat between Nodoka and Mirai, biting her lip, intertwining her fingers together. Watching Ranma fight had been what triggered Ryoga recognizing him. Wouldn’t his own father know right away? And what would that mean for Ranma’s mother? She would never know her son was alive. Her heart pounded in her chest. No matter how it ended, it would be bittersweet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma and Genma took ready stances in the center of the dojo. Ranma, one hand up, casual, unassuming. His father, tapping into broad power. Akane recognized both forms. How Ranma had adapted his father’s style, changed it, made it his own. Improved it. And he had two lifetimes worth of practice now, plus ten years of fighting unnameable monsters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet Genma was no slouch, even in his old age. He threw the first punch, and although Ranma easily dodged, Genma wasted no time in meeting him in the air, aiming a kick at his face. Ranma blocked, his arms crossed in front of his face. They landed and Ranma threw a punch this time, his father grabbing his arm and meaning to flip him. But Ranma threw his weight down intentionally, lifting his father up and over him instead, sending a solid kick into his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Flight of the Wounded Pigeon!” cried Mirai.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” asked Akane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you know, Auntie Akane?” Mirai asked, her glasses glinting in the light. “It’s an Anything Goes technique to counter an enemy’s grapple. It’s from the Saotome school, since it specializes in midair combat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” said Akane. “You learned that from your Grandpa Panda, hmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Mirai said, nodding. “If you’re busy, he comes over to the clinic and teaches me all sorts of stuff!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” asked Akane. The fact that Genma had never stopped wanting to teach martial arts warmed her chest. And also caused her concern. He could have taught classes here at the dojo, if he wanted. Why had he never asked?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew why. The same reason she didn’t visit him for a year. It hurt too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he was thriving now. Laughing, absorbing blows from Ranma. Countering them with strikes of his own. All the movements were so familiar. And as she looked at Genma’s face, she could see something behind his eyes. Wonder, surprise. Hope. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned to Nodoka, who looked concerned. Akane felt a great ache for her. She was losing a battle to her husband she didn’t even know she was a part of. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. She had to do something, but she didn’t know what. But Ranma had fought, so hard, just for her. She owed him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She got to her feet. Yelled the name of the God of Death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know she knew it. But it had come out of her mouth as easily as her own. And time froze around her. Tears still in Nodoka’s eyes. Ranma and his father paused in identical kicks right before they connected. Mirai, raised halfway up, her mouth open in a cheer. P-chan, getting his belly scratched by Kenshi, tongue out of his mouth. Nabiki, mid eye roll, arms crossed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the God of Death stood before her, looking confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Child?” he asked. “Wait, you’re not the one who—what is happening here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “You have to let Ranma tell his mother!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” asked the God of Death. “He still has one more chance to reveal himself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane shook her head. Pointed at Ranma and Genma, frozen in battle. “His father’s about to figure it out. And even if his mother guessed first, they both deserve to know! That’s his mom and dad!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The God of Death raised his eyebrows. “Child, he signed a contract—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I’ll sign a contract!” yelled Akane. “I’ll fight you! I’ll train for ten years and beat your face in, if I have to! Ranma should have both his parents know!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The God of Death’s expression softened. “The two of you are a formidable pair. I have no desire to fight you as well. The fight against him was bad enough. My jaw still hurts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane furrowed her brow. “There has to be something! Some deal we can make!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He considered this for a long while. Finally, he said, “Very well. Ten years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane nodded. “If that’s what it takes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” said the God of Death. “Ten years of your life. Right off the end. You’ll die a little early, and before you move on, you work for me. Ten years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane panted, her eyes darting back and forth as she worked it out in her head. “You told Ranma I have sixty or seventy years left. Fifty more years is nothing to sneeze at. Deal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right,” said the God of Death. “But we have to ask him, too, as I know very well he will insist on not living a single second without you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The God of Death snapped his fingers, and Ranma unfroze in place, stumbling as his foot fell to the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the—?” He steadied himself. Looked back and forth at Akane and the God of Death. “What is going on? You said it wasn’t a trick!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could pounce on the God of Death, he was stopped by some invisible force that also calmed him. The God of Death smiled. “It’s not. This child has made a deal, for your sake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane?” Ranma turned on her. “What did you do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just wanted you to be able to tell your mom and your dad,” she said softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ten years,” said the God of Death, and Ranma turned his attention back to him. “Ten years from the end of her life, and you can tell your mother and father who you really are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma worked it out quicker than Akane did. “Fifty years, still. Akane, are you sure? You don’t have to do this for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes I do,” she said, and took his hand. He looked down at it, so small in his own. “I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” the God of Death said. “That means I need ten years from the end of your life as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it,” Ranma agreed instantly. “But I get to tell Kasumi and Nabiki, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” asked Akane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He squeezed her hand and looked back at her, grinning. “They’re my sisters, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She loved this idiot so much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The God of Death nodded. “All right. A total of three additional people. For ten years from each of you. It is a fair enough deal. But after this, honestly, we’re done. I am so tired.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma and Akane looked at each other, matching smiles. This would have to be enough. It was so much more than what anyone else got. But they fought for it. And they would fight for it again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They turned back to the God of Death, hand in hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right,” said Ranma. “Agreed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two contracts, summoned in flames. They signed. The God of Death resumed time, and they were in the places they were before, Akane on the sidelines, Ranma with his foot to his father’s head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took a deep breath as the fight resumed, as if nothing had happened at all. Genma rebounded from the kick, bringing his body low, aiming for Ranma’s legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma, right before contact, suddenly dropped out of his stance. His shoulders dropped. He scratched his chin and looked over Genma’s back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh, what’s that over there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where?” Genma asked, turning his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An opening!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma kicked his father in the face, and Genma went flying back, the kids at the end scattering apart as he hit the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Anything Goes Ultimate Secret Technique!” Mirai shouted, jumping to her feet in excitement. “Incredible! I’ve never seen it actually work!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane smiled. She was very familiar with this move. Mirai had only seen it used on herself, so of course she hadn’t seen it work. But it worked surprisingly well, although mostly on idiots. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Genma cracked the wood under the iroha sign and remained, stunned, his head down as Ranma approached, crossing his arms and smirking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looks like I won, old man,” said Ranma. “It was a good fight, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Genma looked up, a bruise forming under his eye. He glared at Ranma for a long moment, before bursting into loud, sustained laughter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was a great fight, boy!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma offered his hand out and helped the other man to his feet. They shook hands once Genma was standing, and Genma clapped him heartily on the back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re really good,” said Genma. “You remind me of my son.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I?” asked Ranma, his voice choked with tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was INCREDIBLE!” shrieked Mirai, running over to the two of them. She started climbing over Genma as she began babbling excitedly about all the different moves and techniques they had used during the fight. Ranma laughed and replied to her with earnesty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane smiled as she watched. The other children began to file out of the dojo as she climbed to her feet. Kasumi stopped her and put her hand on her shoulder, smiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane,” she said softly. “He’s really wonderful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess he’s not so bad after all,” agreed Nabiki, also standing and stretching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s a good teacher,” mumbled Akane, blushing. She looked around for Ranma’s mother, but she was gone. Not in the dojo anywhere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back to Ranma, who hadn’t noticed. Too caught up in the conversation with his father and Mirai. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” said Akane, pulling away from her sister and running outside. She found Nodoka, by the koi pond, hunched over and looking at her reflection in the moonlight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Auntie—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that,” Nodoka said, without looking up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane didn’t reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault my idiot husband seems to have forgotten Ranma so easily.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s what happened—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t it?” Nodoka stood. Turned to face Akane. She wasn’t crying. She was angry. “He was so eager just to fight anyone half decent again that he just started having the time of his life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He just—” Akane’s voice faltered. She couldn’t tell Nodoka the truth. Ranma had to. And only after she figured it out. But she was hurt. So hurt, like Akane had been. How could she ever even open to the possibility?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell my husband I’ve gone home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodoka left, then, leaving Akane alone in the moonlight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma and Genma remained seated on the front steps of the dojo, long after all the children had left. Long after Kasumi had finally convinced Mirai she needed to leave too. The night was cold, but the two men had worked up quite a sweat during their match, and both could easily remain in the frigid air without feeling uncomfortable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you again, Densuke-kun,” said Genma. “I haven’t had a fight like that in ages.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem,” Ranma said, trying to ignore the stabbing feeling when his father called him by his other name. “It was fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was,” said Genma. “I have to know—where did you learn Anything Goes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” said Ranma. “All over, I guess. And right here, of course. At the dojo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a style that pulls from many areas, I suppose,” said Genma. “Although I never knew Akane-kun to be as adept at aerial combat as you seem to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I just like to put my own spin on things,” Ranma replied, shrugging in a friendly manner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And when did you go to Jusenkyo?” asked Genma.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma blinked. Gulped. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Earlier, in the kitchen. Kenshi said he wanted to see Grandpa Panda. And without a word, you grabbed a cup of water for me to pour over my head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did, huh?” Ranma said, grinning and rubbing his chin as he looked straight ahead. “Let’s just say Akane told me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Told you what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane was standing in front of them, at the end of the walkway, smiling, her hands behind her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma looked up at her and was unable to keep a goofy smile from crossing his face. “Akane.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Genma looked back and forth between the two of them. Crossed his arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Densuke-kun, what has Akane told you about my son?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma snapped out of his trance. Turned to his father. “Well, uh—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane,” said Genma somberly. “Was the love of his life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both Ranma and Akane stayed where they were, looking at him, saying nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you,” said Genma, pointing at Ranma. “Look at her the exact same way he did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, they said nothing. Neither could. Neither knew what to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what I find really interesting,” Genma said. “Is she’s looking at you the same way she used to look at him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma smiled. His dad wasn’t so stupid after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Genma, his arms still crossed, looked up at the night sky and was silent for a long while. Akane and Ranma remained silent, both of them too nervous to move. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, after an eternity, Genma started to laugh, his shoulders shaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything Goes Ultimate Secret Technique, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma let out a chuckle. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was always my favorite,” replied Genma. He turned. Put a hand on his son’s face. “Wasn’t it, Ranma?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma let the happiness wash over him as he let himself change. Tears filled his eyes as he grinned back at his father. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Pop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Genma pulled his lips in, trying to prevent them from quivering. And he started crying, harder than his old friend ever had, and embraced his son as tight as he could. Ranma let himself cry like a baby in his father’s chest, not caring about how he looked. Not caring about whether he seemed like a real man or not. His dad. Holding him. They were together and both knew the truth. He loved Akane, deeply. He wouldn’t have fought his way back to life without her. But still, it had hurt so much to be apart from his parents, knowing how much they were suffering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he could fix that. He was fixing it now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked over the crook of his father’s elbow and saw Akane, still standing in the same spot, wiping her tears with the ends of her sweater sleeves. He stuck out his hand and gestured for her to come over, and she nervously joined them. Genma and Ranma simultaneously grabbed her in their arms, and they cried together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually they managed to pause, look at each other. And Genma asked how. So the three of them went inside, and Ranma told his story. For the third time, now, and he had three more to go. P-chan hovered nearby, hoping one of them would drop leftover snacks from the party, which Akane occasionally did when Ranma wasn’t looking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And now I need to tell Mom,” said Ranma. “But she has to figure it out first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were all crosslegged at the table, each with a mug of tea in front of them. P-chan had started to tire out, and he laid his head in Ranma’s lap, yawning, his mouth open wide. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She seemed so upset when she left,” said Akane, clutching her tea in both hands. “She misses you so much. She’s hurt so deeply. She missed out on your childhood, and then she got to miss you grow up. How could she even think it’s possible?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” admitted Ranma. “But there has to be some way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Genma nodded. “I’ll try my best too. I don’t know how much I can say, but I’ll try and lead her in the right direction.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” Akane smiled in realization. “Let’s have everyone over for Christmas!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone?” asked Ranma.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your mom and dad. Kasumi and Tofu and the kids. Nabiki. Ryoga and his family. Maybe being around everyone in context will help your mom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” said Ranma. “But it’s not like I spent a lot of Christmases with her before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even so,” said Akane. “I bet it will help Kasumi and Nabiki. And it will be nice, to have everyone I love, all together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma smiled. “Okay, Akane. How about you, Pop?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Genma nodded. “It’s a good idea. I’ll look forward to it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood to leave, and Ranma and Akane stood too, attempting to stop him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pop, you can stay—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” said Genma, shaking his head. “If your mother is as upset as Akane-kun says, I need to go home. Talk with her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right,” said Ranma. “Then we’ll see you at Christmas?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s make it Christmas Eve,” said Akane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Deal,” said Genma. He reached out, took one of Akane’s hands in his left, and one of Ranma’s in his right. “I’m so happy for you both. Truly. But if anyone could do it, well, it would be one of you two, wouldn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They smiled back at him, but they had cried enough. So they simply hugged him, and walked him to the door. Bid him goodnight and goodbye. And then Ranma put his arm around Akane as they stood in the entryway, and she leaned her head against his chest, putting her own arm around his lower back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing. I just want to say your name. Over and over again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma. Ranma. Ranma. Ranma. Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled her in, then, spinning her body so he could hug her tight against his chest. She kept whispering his name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma. Ranma. Ranma. Ranma.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran his hands up her back, tangling his fingers in her hair. Tilted her head back so she faced him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kissed her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kissed her again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kissed her one more time, but before she could say his name again, he swept her up in his arms and carried her upstairs. He loved her, this petite, fiery woman with a heart bigger than Mount Fuji. She had given up ten years of her life, just so he could be honest with his parents. As they went to bed, joining themselves together again, he wondered what would have happened if their positions had been reversed. What if she had died, young, in his arms? He would not have handled it as well as she did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Would she have fought her way back? Would it have taken her less time? Would the God of Death have offered her the same deal? How long would it have taken him to figure it out?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let P-chan in the room after they were done, and the dog happily hopped up on the bottom of the bed and slept at their feet. He had never thought of himself as a dog person before, but a week before coming to the dojo, he had found the poor puppy wandering the street. He was adorable, and stupid, and extremely loyal. Dogs were definitely better than cats, anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a deep breath and turned over in bed next to Akane. She was already asleep. She was just as beautiful as the day they met. He remembered the first smile she ever gave him. And then her name. And that was all it took. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every once in a while, a love comes around that spans oceans, mountains, lifetimes, galaxies. A pair of hearts reaching across a sea of stars. He had that. He knew that. They were together, in a million different ways, in a million different worlds, in a million different stories. Maybe they didn’t all work out. Maybe they didn’t always find each other. But they had this time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he would make sure they did next time.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. A Merry Little Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“All right, you,” Ranma said, crossing his arms and frowning deeply. “One last time, and that’s it! No more chances!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking up at him with dopey eyes and wagging tail, P-chan barked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be serious!” Ranma yelled, clenching his fists as they stood in the side yard near the dojo. P-chan had no reaction other than to continue wagging his tail. Ranma sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here we go, prepare yourself!” Ranma pulled a small neon pink ball out of his jacket pocket. Held it up between his fingers. “Fetch!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma threw the ball and it soared over P-chan, the dog’s head rolling back as his eyes followed its path. In fact, the dog’s head rolled so far back that he nearly fell over, managing to teeter back onto his feet and lazily trotting towards the patch of grass where the ball had landed. He sniffed a couple times, then opened his mouth and picked up the ball in his snout.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good boy!” cried Ranma, his expression brightening. He patted the tops of his thighs. “Now, bring it back!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>P-chan stayed in one spot, staring back at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, P-chan,” Ranma growled impatiently. “Bring me the ball!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>P-chan wagged his tail but didn’t move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“P-CHAN BRING ME THE BALL!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dog immediately began running away, behind the dojo. Flabbergasted, Ranma chased after him, being led in a giant circle before they finally came back to the place they started and Ranma literally wrestled the ball out of P-chan’s mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right, one more time!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One more time what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane was walking towards them from the walkway, and Ranma looked up at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We were just—” He paused when he saw her. Dropped the ball. It bounced away, P-chan batting it with his paws. A goofy smile spread across Ranma’s face once more. “Akane, you—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like it?” She smiled nervously, bringing her fingers up to touch the ends of her now short hair. It stopped just at her chin, and looked healthy and smooth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I do,” Ranma said, walking over to her. He put his hands on her waist. “I always liked it short. It’s cute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said, blushing and running her fingers up his arms to rest her hands on his shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t—you didn’t get it cut just because of me, did you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I needed it cut. I wanted it cut. I was tired of having to mess with it. It was always in the way. I just—I never cared, before. But I do now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It looks good,” he said. He lifted one of his hands up to twirl his fingers in the ends of her hair, right at the nape of her neck. Soft. Silky. “Feels good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I always wanted you to—” She paused. Blushed. Looked away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanted me to what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted you to touch my hair,” she said shyly. “Just like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane,” he said, smiling. Ran his fingers through her hair over and over again. “You’re such a sap.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rested her forehead against his chest, letting him stroke her hair over and over again as she wrapped her arms around his torso. “Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He used one arm to hold her tightly to him, keeping his other hand in her hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma, please don’t leave me. Not ever again. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t,” he returned in a whisper. “I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled back. Looked him in the eyes. She was trying not to cry. “But we don’t know each other as adults. Not really.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” he said. “Yes we do. And are we really that different than we used to be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe we are,” she replied. “But I think we’re different in the same ways. Does that make sense?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said. “See? We know each other perfectly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She giggled, despite herself. Her tears faded. “You’re always so confident. I love that about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He bent down. Kissed her, one hand in her short hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He loved her, he loved her, oh god, how he loved her. He had loved her since they were kids. He still loved her, after all this time. He would love her for the next fifty years. And, after they died, he would find her in the next life, and love her again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>P-chan started barking his head off, then shoved his snout in between their legs. Ranma and Akane broke apart laughing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think he’s jealous,” Akane said, crouching down to scratch the dog’s ears and neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just like the other P-chan,” Ranma muttered under his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, nothing,” he said with a sigh. “Come on, let’s go in and have tea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh? Weren’t you trying to teach P-chan how to play fetch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a lost cause,” said Ranma. “But he has plenty of other good qualities.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Christmas Eve arrived quickly. Akane bought a new red dress. Clipped flowers into her hair. Ranma wore a button up shirt under a nice sweater with slacks. He prepared all sorts of food, from ham to surimi to kimchi and even chicken nuggets for Toya, the notoriously picky eater. P-chan was delighted by all the new and delicious smells.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first to arrive was, surprisingly, Ryoga. Akane greeted his family and took their coats as they came through the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ryoga-kun! The first one here! It’s a miracle!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, my wife’s sense of direction is much better than mine,” he laughed, putting his arm behind his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His wife smiled and gave Akane a big hug. “It’s good to see you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too,” replied Akane warmly. “And this is—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned to Ranma. He held out a hand for her to shake. “Densuke. Nice to meet you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you as well,” replied Ryoga’s wife. She looked down next to her where her son was holding her other hand. “And this is Rantaro.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma crouched down so he was eye to eye with his namesake. Trying not to cry, he smiled. “Nice to meet you, Rantaro-chan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The little boy, as polite and serious as Ryoga ever was, held out a tiny hand. Charmed, Ranma shook it genuinely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a really firm grip, like your dad,” said Ranma.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Rantaro asked excitedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re crushing my bones!” Ranma made exaggerated sounds of fake pain, pretending he was suffering in Rantaro’s grasp. Rantaro laughed at the display loudly as Ranma finally wrenched his hand free. “You’ve defeated me, Rantaro-chan!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You hear that Dad?” Rantaro flexed his tiny arm proudly. “I beat him!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard, I heard,” Ryoga said, laughing. “Come on, let’s find the snacks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure man, through here—” Ranma guided his old friend and his family into the living room. Akane remained behind in the entryway expectantly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t have to wait long. Kasumi’s children piled in through the door, throwing their coats on the ground. Kenshi immediately started yelling for P-chan, disappearing down the hallway. Toya headed for the library, and Mirai to the dojo, despite Kasumi’s requests for them to slow down as she and Tofu took off their shoes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kasumi, Tofu, I’m glad to see you,” Akane said, as she took their coats, hanging them on the hook next to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane-chan,” said Kasumi, walking up to her. “You cut your hair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane touched her neck nervously. “I did. Do you like it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kasumi smiled. Reached up. Touched the ends of Akane’s hair. “Of course I do. You look like yourself again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma emerged from the living room. Smiled as he stood next to Akane. “Kasumi-san. Glad you could make it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kasumi withdrew her hand. Looked from Ranma to Akane, who both were staring at her with expectant eyes. “Does this mean—?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both opened their mouths slightly, but couldn’t say anything Not yet. They knew she knew. She knew they knew she knew. She just needed to say it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she said the wrong name. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Akane,” said Kasumi, her smile growing. She hugged her little sister tightly. “This is wonderful. I don’t know how. But it’s a miracle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane nodded, shutting her mouth tight. If she said anything, it would have to be “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” So she said nothing, and returned her sister’s hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, we’re not starting the sentimental stuff already?” Nabiki’s sarcastic voice from the doorway. Much like the children, she took off her coat and dropped it on top of her shoes. She was carrying multiple bottles of wine this time as she walked forward to join the rest of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Christmas,” said Akane, pulling away from Kasumi and helping Nabiki with the bottles of wine. “Of course it’s sentimental.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All three sisters laughed together and headed into the kitchen, followed by Tofu. Ranma was left alone in the entryway, and he stared at Akane’s back as long as he could. The way the back of her neck was exposed with her hair that short, elegantly curving down into the top of her dress. How fabric followed the swerve of her narrow waist, and hugged her hips. She was more muscular now, than she had been when they were kids. And he hadn’t lied when he said she had improved. She was a much, much better martial artist and she surprised him every day. He couldn’t wait to see what she would do over the next fifty years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma turned, and his parents were in the open doorway, his father with a wide grin, his mother, smiling, but only polite. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” said Ranma. “Welcome. Come in, come in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took their coats, hung them up. His mother’s shoulders were stiff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for inviting us over,” said Nodoka, and her tone was cool. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it was really Akane’s idea,” said Ranma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure it was,” Nodoka replied in the same cool tone. Ranma shared a glance with his father, who shrugged helplessly. This was going to be harder than he thought. He led them into the living room, where everyone was waiting, except for Kasumi’s two eldest. Kenshi and Rantaro had immediately bonded and were both playing with P-chan on the floor, laughing in delight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone is here!” Akane ran up to Genma and Nodoka, attempting a hug. Genma gave her one enthusiastically, but Nodoka outright turned her shoulder away and sat down before Akane could reach her. Upon seeing the devastation on Akane’s face, Ranma felt a twinge of anger at his mother that he had never felt before. But Akane just shook it off. Smoothed the front of her dress. Looked over the room at the other guests. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” she said. “Thank you all so much for coming.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we drink now?” asked Nabiki.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” said Ranma. “I’ll go get glasses for everyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A round of cheers. Kasumi stood, smiling. “I’ll help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too,” said Akane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you have guests,” said Kasumi. “We’ll be right back.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane relented and took a seat with the guests as Kasumi and Ranma headed into the kitchen. Once where no one could see them, she stopped. Threw her arms around Ranma in a hug, which he returned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew it,” said Kasumi. She pulled back. Still held his hands. “I knew it was you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t say anything. Just stared back at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But how?” she whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swallowed painfully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kasumi’s eyebrows knitted together. “But I thought—she wouldn’t have cut her hair if—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma said nothing. Tried to keep his breathing steady. “You just need to talk to the right person.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The right person?” Kasumi asked. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you—” He paused. “If you asked for the right person—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The compulsion stopped him. He couldn’t say anything else. She had to figure it out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Asked for—” Kasumi bit her lip. Looked up at him. He could see her working it out, behind her eyes. Slowly, she spoke again. “You mean I need to ask for—Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grinned. He changed. Tears of relief forming. “That’s me. How can I help you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma,” she whispered. Her smile grew. She hugged him again. “I knew it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did,” Ranma said, his arms around his sister. “You’re the smart one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed. Pulled back. Touched his face. “How? I mean, I know the why. But how did you do it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you later,” Ranma said. “I promise. But I want my mom and Nabiki to figure it out too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So they have to say your name, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not just say it. Call me by it. They have to know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” said Kasumi. “That will be tricky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. It was hard enough getting Akane to figure it out,” sighed Ranma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kasumi squeezed his arms. “I’ll help. Somehow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you Kasumi,” said Ranma. “And I didn’t thank you for everything you did before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Before?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Before I died. You were always—” He choked back a sob, which he had done so often lately. “You were always a good big sister. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma,” she said softly, touching his face again. “No thanks needed. Except for me, thanking you. Akane needed you. Desperately.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I needed her,” he whispered. “That’s the real reason I came back.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” said Kasumi. “Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both smiled. Wiped away tears. Gathered up wine glasses and opened bottles, bringing them back out to the living room. There were conversations. Games of cards. Singing. Mirai and Toya and Kenshi and Rantaro and P-chan filtered in and out, laughing, screaming, sometimes pouting. The house felt warm and full. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At one point, during a card game, Ryoga and Nabiki got into a very heated argument over something small, which then led to Ryoga’s wife jumping in and then she and Nabiki exchanged barbs for quite a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma leaned over to Akane. “What’s with them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ryoga and Nabiki used to date,” she whispered back in his ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Seriously?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For like five years!” she said in an excited whisper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma laughed softly. “You know, I can see that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt his mother’s piercing stare, and he realized how close he was sitting to Akane. He scooted himself away and tried to smile at Nodoka weakly, but she sharply looked away.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night continued. He tried, over and over again, to make conversation with his mother, but her answers were all short. Curt. Ice daggers in his heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was hot chocolate, after dinner. An old movie on television. The children started to fall asleep. Ryoga and his wife lifted Rantaro up, and Akane said they could stay in Kasumi’s old room. Ranma offered the guest room to Kasumi, Tofu, and their children, and Genma went with them as the kids wanted to sleep with Uncle Panda. Nodoka went as well, to help settle them down, and Akane and Ranma were left alone with Nabiki. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Finally, some quiet,” Nabiki said, pouring out another glass of wine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re good kids,” said Akane. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Nabiki. “But they sure are loud.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We used to be louder.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh? You think so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane laughed. “Of course! We were pretty bratty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Nabiki murmured thoughtfully. Drunkenly. She looked back and forth between Akane and Ranma. “So, question. Am I still the only one who knows about the two of you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kasumi knows,” blurted out Ranma.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane turned to him, smiling in surprise. “Really? She said it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, grinning. “Yep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And of course she’s happy for you, isn’t she?” Nabiki asked, taking a sip of her wine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” said Ranma. “She is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki raised one eyebrow. “Well, Akane, you must be pretty happy if you cut your hair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you like it?” Akane asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” said Nabiki. “I just thought you’d never cut it for anybody except Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed. Ranma and Akane said nothing, just sat, staring back at her, wide-eyed. Akane kept her hands in her lap, clutching at her dress. She should be able to say something. The compulsion had loopholes. And then it hit her. What she could say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki looked up, her laughter pausing. She was just drunk enough that she might believe it. Might guess. She looked at Akane. At Ranma. At Akane. At Ranma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t, would you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane shook her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nabiki blinked a few more times, then laughed and slapped the table with her hand  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma,” she said. “You son of a bitch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma laughed too. Let himself change. Nabiki was still drunk, so her face wasn’t as shocked as the others he had revealed himself to. She climbed over the table. Hugged him, her grip sloppy and soft. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were such a terrible little brother,” she murmured. “I missed you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed you too,” he replied, returning the embrace. “You were the worst sister.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They laughed together. Cried. She asked him how. He denied telling her his story, saying it had to wait. Told her his mom still needed to know. Nabiki agreed with hesitation, reminding him of when he was younger and hiding himself from his mother in a different way. She eventually left them, to sleep in her old room, giving them a hearty congratulations and whispering a suggestion into Akane’s ear that made her blush. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then Ranma and Akane were alone. She started to clean, as it was always her urge to tidy a mess. He stood and started helping her to gather the glasses and plates.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Helping me clean?” asked Akane. “Are you sure you’re Ranma after all?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What can I say?” he replied, shrugging with a charming grin. “It’s Christmas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They washed dishes together, standing side by side at the sink. She handed him a large red mixing bowl to dry and then suddenly paused. “Oh! Ranma! I nearly forgot!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She walked over to the fridge, hopping and straining to open the cabinet above it. She managed to pull out a large rectangular gift box wrapped in snowman print paper. After lowering it down into her arms, she smiled at Ranma and handed it to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, your Christmas present.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Akane, always so thoughtful. He carefully pulled the paper off, setting it on the table. He put the box down and lifted up the lid. When he saw what was inside, he paused. His heart pounded in his ears. He ran his fingers over it. Smooth. Cool. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you like it?” Akane asked nervously. “Or is it too nostalgic? Regressive? I don’t know. I know you probably won’t wear it very often, but—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane,” he said. “It’s perfect.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lifted it out of the box. Held it up at the end of his arms, letting it dangle in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A red, silk shirt with a Mandarin collar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” she asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He set the shirt down. Pulled off his sweater and button up in one go, up over his head. Started putting the silk shirt on and fastening it in the front, only part way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to put it on right now—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes I do,” he said. “Because I got you a present, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to her. He looked so handsome. And in the same kind of shirt he used to wear so often. Akane was overwhelmed. She never thought she would get to see Ranma like this, a grown man. Tall and strong with gray hairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he lowered himself to one knee. Pulled something out of his pocket. A tiny box. Opened it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought I’d ask you properly this time,” he said, his mouth pulling up into a crooked grin. “Akane. I love you. Will you marry me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She covered her mouth with one hand, staring down at the ring. Her breathing was shallow. Fast. Her eyes wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akane?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She started nodding, tears escaping her eyes. “Yes! Yes, Ranma, yes!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His smile grew even wider. Clumsily, he slid the ring on her finger and stood up, sweeping her into his arms for a deep kiss. When they broke apart, they were both crying. But it felt right. Him in his silk shirt, her with short hair. They were Ranma and Akane, like they had always been. Like they always would be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it too soon?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? It’s been fourteen years!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed. “You did say you wanted to be fiances again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do,” she whispered, running her fingers over his lips. “I really do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They kissed again. Somehow managed to part, after an eternity. Finished the dishes. Sprawled on the living room floor, watching out of the windows of the sliding doors as it began to snow. Akane reclined on her side, and Ranma behind her, putting his arm around her. Putting his hand over hers, feeling her engagement ring. He wished he had married her a long time ago. Even when they were sixteen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Warm, and content, and even a little happy, they fell asleep together in the middle of the floor.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Ranko, and How It Ends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What the hell is this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma opened his eyes, the early morning sun hitting him in the face. He yawned and sat up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And realized his mother was standing over him and Akane, hatred in her eyes. Akane stirred and woke up, sitting up with Ranma, and froze when she saw Nodoka glaring down at them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell is this?!” Nodoka repeated. She reached down. Yanked Akane’s arm up. “An engagement ring?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well—” Akane tried to clear the sleep out of her brain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodoka didn’t wait for an answer. Threw Akane’s arm down in disgust as Ranma climbed to his feet. Grabbed a hold of the front of his shirt. “And this!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane slowly stood up too, shaking nervously. “It’s—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s sick, is what it is!” Nodoka shouted. “Are you trying to live out some weird fantasy? This is disgusting! You should be ashamed!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Auntie, please—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said don’t call me that!” Nodoka was fuming. “I have no connection to you whatsoever! I don’t know why I’m even here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She spun in place. Started marching away. Ranma and Akane followed her, Akane crying and pleading with her to stop. But Nodoka continued, out of the front door, not bothering with her coat. And Ranma and Akane followed, barefoot in the snow, freezing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop!” Ranma shouted, his feet turning to ice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodoka finally paused, halfway up the walk. Turned around. “You know what? I feel sorry for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stomped up. Poked him in the chest. “You’re too stupid and caught up in Akane to realize what she’s doing to you. You’re nothing but a replacement, you know that? A pathetic second place to the boy she loved as a teenager.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not true!” shouted Akane, holding her hands to her chest, her breath visible in the air. “You don’t understand!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What don’t I understand?” Nodoka demanded. “You put this shirt on him. Let him teach classes here, just like my son was supposed to. And now, you’re engaged. It’s freakish. It’s sad. How dare you even speak to me?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love him!” shouted Akane. “And you should know—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodoka smacked her in the face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stunned, Akane pulled back. Held her cheek in shock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t love him,” hissed Nodoka. “You just saw another good looking idiot and turned him into Ranma. It’s bizarre and I won’t tolerate it. I never want to see you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, Auntie—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodoka reared back to smack Akane again. Akane didn’t resist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Ranma did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grabbed his mother’s wrist. Forced her hand down. Positioned himself in front of her, glaring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop this,” he said. “You’re out of line.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what would you know about it?!” Nodoka yelled up at him, trying to pull free. But he was too strong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything,” he said. “I know everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” asked Nodoka. “So she told you about Ranma? The boy she used to claim was the love of her life? My son? Who she said she could never move on from? You know all of that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said. “I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you’re even more pathetic than I thought,” said Nodoka. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frowned. Released her hand. Stepped back. Started unfastening his shirt. Took it off, standing in the snow in nothing but his tank top. Handed the shirt to Akane. Stood in front of his mother, trying not to shiver. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is this?” she asked. “What are you trying to prove to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma said nothing, just stared back at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane clutched his shirt to her chest. So many years ago, he had wanted his mother to see him, just like this. See him for who he really is. And it was like this. Akane felt something rising up in her again. To say something. She couldn’t call on the God of Death. Although, she didn’t need to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranko,” said Akane softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma and Nodoka turned to look at her. They really had identical expressions. Akane looked up at Nodoka, staring her in the eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Au—Nodoka. Don’t you remember? Everything that happened with Ranko.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranko?” asked Nodoka. Her angry expression faded into one of confusion. “Why are you bringing that up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akane stared back at her. “Ranko.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There. That. Nodoka tilted her head. Akane could see something there, behind her eyes.  Nodoka looked back at Ranma. Over at Akane. Back at Ranma, heaving, shirtless and barefoot in the snow. A man among men. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She put one hand over her mouth. Gasped. Trembling, she whispered, just loud enough to hear, “Ranma?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His anger instantly faded. He smiled. Never held a grudge for long. Let himself change. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Mom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, like the others, she cried. Touched his face. Hugged him tightly. There, in the snow, trying to warm him. He cried with her, again. This was the big one. The final part of the puzzle. He had his whole family, now. His mother. His father. His sisters. His brother, Ryoga. And Akane. She had made it happen, again. Figured out how to help him, like she always did. He reached out. Pulled her over to the embrace he was sharing with his mom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Akane, I’m sorry,” Nodoka sobbed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all right,” whispered Akane. “You didn’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I hit you! How could I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I probably would have done the same.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think you would have,” Nodoka said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys, can we go inside?” asked Ranma. “I think I’m going to get frostbite.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, oh, of course. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all right, Mom. We’re all together now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma and Nodoka made breakfast together. Everyone ate, wished each other Merry Christmas. And then they had to separate. Ryoga and his wife left with Rantaro to catch a train. Kasumi had Tofu take their children back to the clinic. But the others stayed. Ranma, Akane. His parents. Kasumi and Nabiki.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he sat down. Told his story. One last time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room was so full of love and amazement. He could feel Akane’s pride emanating from her body next to him. He would fight a million more demons if it meant staying like this by her side. And to have all the people he cared about, the people he loved, all of them be able to see him, to really see him, and it was all because of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually Kasumi had to leave. And then Nabiki. Congratulations on the engagement. Even though they had always been engaged, since the first day they met. His parents stayed the longest. Akane asked them to stay the night again, but they refused, saying they should be alone to celebrate the proposal. They deserved to be together, one on one, for just a little while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And after they were gone, Akane became quiet. She walked to the altar in her father’s old room, now a library full of books. Lit a candle as she knelt before the pictures of her mother and father, side by side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad, you would be proud,” she whispered, her hands together in prayer. “Me and Ranma are finally getting married. I wish you were here to see it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma knelt beside her. Also put his hands together in front of him. Bowed his head. “I’ll take care of her. I’m sorry I didn’t marry her before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re happy, Dad,” said Akane. “Really happy. I miss you. I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your father was a good man, Akane,” Ranma said to her, still looking at Soun’s picture on the altar. “I’m sorry you lost him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s all right,” said Akane. “He’s with Mom now, I’m sure of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>P-chan poked his head between them. Panted loudly. Tilted his head down. Threw up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is this my fault?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s your dog!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, he’s my dog now, but when you want him to sleep in the bed, he’s our dog!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh! Just clean it up!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me? He probably got into that hot chocolate you spilled all over the kotatsu earlier!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a myth that chocolate is bad for dogs!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And yet, here’s a big old pile of puke right after he had his face in it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ranma—” She paused. Blinked. Unclenched her fists at her sides. “Ranma!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We argued!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We did,” he said slowly. “So what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So—” She smiled. “That means we’re normal!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took his hands. “I thought we would be—oh, I don’t know, sad and weird and afraid for our whole lives! But we just argued!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think—” He nodded, a smile of his own appearing. “I think I get what you're saying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re normal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re normal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You still have to clean this up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now wait a minute—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And they continued this way for a while, overlooking the fact that P-chan was licking up his own vomit as they yelled over his head. Things with Ranma never really changed, after all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their wedding was in the summer. Everyone they loved and cared about in attendance. The reception in the dojo. P-chan running around, overindulging himself on food dropped by the guests. There were so many speeches, the longest, most heartfelt, and most full of tears being given by Ryoga. Ranma’s name afterwards was legally Densuke Tendo. She could never be Akane Saotome, but he wanted their family to be together as best as they could be. So he took her name, and they continued on teaching at the dojo together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had three children. Wonderful, rambunctious, amazing children. But none of them wanted to inherit the dojo, although two of them were incredible martial artists in their own right. And when the time came, when Ranma realized their fifty years would be over before they knew it, and wanted to retire and spend his life with Akane in peace, he and Akane asked Mirai. She accepted eagerly, committed herself to running the dojo with her whole heart. And her oldest daughter continued after her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>P-chan fathered a litter of puppies. Ranma had completely forgotten to get him neutered. So he did afterwards, but had trouble finding homes. Rantaro took one, and Kenshi another. Another to his parents. And one he and Akane kept. They always had a dog in the house, even after P-chan and the puppy grew old and passed away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma told Akane he loved her every single day. She kept her hair short. Even as they grew older. Even as they knew their time was coming to an end. They loved their children. Their grandchildren. Their dogs. Their friends. Their niece and nephews. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoga and his wife divorced. He rebounded with Nabiki. It stuck, this time. He also took the name Tendo, and he and Ranma were finally brothers for real. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ranma and Akane could both feel their last day approaching. They were old. Their lives had been full. And they felt lucky. And when they died, at the same moment, they whispered to each other one more time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, Ranma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, Akane.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He died again. It didn’t suck this time.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He followed the automated cart down the aisle of the grocery store, yawning. Every shift seemed to get longer and longer, and it irritated him greatly. It was 2077, and they still needed human stockers, which he couldn’t believe. All those lives he had lived before were in his head, and it made him feel like a grumpy old man, even though in this life he was only twenty-one. The God of Death had warned him he would remember everything, and sometimes it felt like too much to hold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But at least he remembered her. They had spent ten more years together in the afterlife, fighting and helping and filling out paperwork, before they had a chance at this other life. He hadn’t found her, yet. But he knew he would. And in the meantime, his life wasn’t so bad. He was taller than he had ever been, this time. Still strong. Still fast. And he could remember having much worse jobs in his past lives. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned down another aisle. At the end, he saw her. She looked completely different, but he would recognize her anywhere. Short, still. But plump. Pale. Freckles, all over her face, and one shoulder that was exposed by her asymmetrically cut shirt. Curly red hair and bright blue eyes. She had a look of determination on her face as he watched her. Reached for a can of soup on the top shelf. Stood on the bottom shelf, stretching up. Leaned on her cart for balance. It rolled forward, and she slipped back onto her feet as the shelf shook and cans teetered forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was there in an instant, catching them easily. She looked up at him in wonder. And he could see not outright recognition, but definitely something there in her eyes. His heart started beating like crazy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so clumsy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s all right,” he said, setting the cans of soup back on the shelf. “As long as you’re not hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” she said, smiling and shaking her head. That smile was still the same, even though her wrinkled nose was dotted with freckles now. Her eyes were shining as she kept looking at him. “I’m sorry. You seem so familiar. Have we met?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think so,” he replied. “But you look familiar to me too. What’s your name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stuck out her hand. “Scarlett Himmel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook it. “Omar Cavallo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’ve definitely never heard of you,” she said, a giggle behind her lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I definitely would remember a redhead named Scarlett,” he replied. “It’s a little on the nose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She outright laughed. “What can I say? My parents were obnoxiously literal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed too. “Still, I think it suits you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe so.” She bit her lip. Took a deep breath. “You know, maybe this is too forward, but I feel like if I don’t ask, I’ll miss my chance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ask what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled. Blue eyes sparkling. “Would you like to go on a date?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a deep breath. Grinned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Author's Notes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>There's a moment in Try Again, Try Again where Akane wonders what would have happened if her and Ranma's positions were switched. Writing that caused <em>me</em> to wonder what would happen, and before I knew it, I had written this entire fic. It was sort of an experiment, to see how they handle the same situation in their own ways. While Ranma became a wandering, moping slacker in the face of grief, Akane's anger fed into her running her family's business as well as she could. </p><p>I gave Densuke the same backstory as Kozue, mostly because I find it funny that Ranma's alter ego would enjoy Pride and Prejudice so much. </p><p>I also believe that the first half of Try Again, Try Again plays out a bit more like a--not necessarily a thriller, but more suspenseful. Ranma is in a strange house, after all. This story takes place primarily in the extremely familiar Tendo dojo, and I think it gives it a slightly more lighthearted feel.</p><p>The titles of both stories are lyrics from Mitski's <em>Pink in the Night</em>, and the title for the series, <em>Last Words of a Shooting Star,</em> is also a Mitski song lol. Just one of those moods. </p><p>Thank you very much for reading! I got other stuff in the pipeline. A couple things are finished and nearly ready for posting, one WIP that I really want to get out before summer I think people will like.</p><p>anyway I hope you guys enjoy seeing Ranma and Akane being in love all the time because I sure do lol</p>
  </div></div>
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